Circular Reasoning
by Bambieyes1234
Summary: In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. After saving a dense vampire, Sookie is drawn into a curious new world. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**Yes, the Sookie/Eric takes time but I detest random fix-it fics where they jump into bed, and are mindlessly declaring their love within seconds of meeting each other. **

**This fanfic won't have the fastest update rate, as my other S/E fanfic** Bullshit Ban **is first on my hit-list, but it will be updated.**

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><p>When the vampires had come out of the coffin two years ago, Sookie hadn't been surprised. Bon Temps was a small podunk town for sure but Sookie had been to New Orlenes once while following a dead-end lead about her cousin, Hadley.<p>

As the telepath had discovered while scanning the mind of a hostal manager that had seen Hadley's missing person's flyter and called her Aunt Lydia, New Orlenes was the vampire capital in America.

After that, Sookie had started wondering what else was out there. Two weeks later, she ran across a genuine witch, who knew a little something about werewolves.

_Werewolves_. It sounded crazy but Sookie could hardly throw stones. Especially since it looked like there was something _other_ in her blood. Being able to read-minds was _not _a human trait.

After recieving an incredibly disturbing play-by-play description of the day she'd been born from Jason, Sookie could safely say that she wasn't adopted. Though immensely reassuring, that left her no closer to finding out who she was.

_What_ she was.

Sookie knew perfectly well what kind of person she was. A stubborn one who refused to bend to her fellow townsfolk's idea of a normal, respectable Southern woman. It was the desire to please others that had lead to...

A twinge of pain hit Sookie square between the eyes, and she winced. Lifting a hand to ruffle her blonde hair, the telepath watched her reflection mimic the movement. She puckered her pink lips at the mirror, bracing her hands on the counter.

Sookie stared her reflection in the eyes, breathing in deeply. She was twenty-four-years old, now. It was over, had been for a long time, but damnit, it still made her want to curl up in bed and cry.

Rape was such an ugly, brutal word. One that should never be applied to a seven-year-old and her Uncle but that was the cold, harsh reality of it.

Life sucks and then you die, someone had said. It wasn't Sookie's preferred motto.

That honor fell to a piece of advice a newly-outed Lafayette had given her while drunk. _"The problem with people in this town, honey-child, they is all wantin' a piece of your fine ass. You, me and Tara; we got a choice - bend, break or don't."_

The three of them were doomed to be outcasts, what a price to be able to look themselves in the mirror.

Sookie went to work, breezing through her tables with a smile plastered across her face. It was a slow night, but not an awful one, despite Tara having lost another job, until Dawn told her, "The Rattarys are in your section."

Sookie looked over her shoulder, praying that Dawn was screwing with her, but clear as day, tacky as ever, there was Mac Rattary smacking his wife, Denise, on the butt. "Oh, Lord," Sookie grumbled, tilting her head back. "Why is it _always_ me?"

"Don't let it get to you, Cher," Sam advised.

It wasn't the Rattarys slimy, cheap thoughts that got under Sookie's skin or their words. She couldn't understand how they could possibly fit the image of normal that most people had, while she, Tara and Lala were degraded on a daily basis. Wasn't she supposed to be the crazy one?

It was hard to believe that most days, especially if Lafayette was right about all men being scared of what was between a woman's legs.

After dumping the pitcher of bud and onion rings with mustard at the Rattray's table then making sure that everyone else had what they needed, thus improving her tips, Sookie spotted Tara at the bar and headed over to see her recently fired friend.

"Tara, hey, honey." Sookie greeted, planting an affectionate kiss on her friend's cheek.

"My life sucks," Tara stated bluntly, staring grimly at the shining bar top.

Sookie blinked at her friend, taken off guard by the cynical response. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms Bodehouse. I thought you were my friend Tara."

Close enough to overhear, Sam snorted but didn't look up from polishing a glass. Sparing a dour look for Sam, Tara slumped, looking at Sookie with a sigh. "Okay, point taken. I'm a moody bitch. But, damnit, how come I can't hold a job?"

"Because you can't hold your mouth?"

"Bitch, who asked you?" Tara winked at her playfully.

Sam came over, and Sookie tried not to react to his flirting. Sam was a good boss, the only one she could stand and who could stand her, but, _damn_...

A chill stroke down her spine, cold and sharp like a knife's edge. Sookie stiffened instinctively, sensing something strange in the air. For a moment, she felt dizzy, like the rug had been snatched out from under her, and almost against her will, her head turned towards the door.

A dark-haired stranger walked into Merlotte's. He was a few inches taller than her and pale like chalk, like a corpse. The knowledge of what he was came to her within the space of one look, one moment. Vampire, the first to visit Bon Temps. Sookie had never met a vampire before but his skin seemed to hold a light glow, calling to her, though every instinct in her body protested such a thing.

As he took an empty booth in her section, he lifted his head and stared at her, face shadowed by the dim light. It looked creepy as hell.

"Sookie?" said Tara, sounding concerned.

Sookie turned back to her friends, a strange calm settling over her, like she was bracing herself for something without knowing it. "Looks like Merlotte's has its first vampire," she noted, voice politely detached. "We have any of that True Blood stuff?"

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><p>Less than fifteen minutes later, Sookie found herself crouched down in Merlotte's parking lot, sneaking up on Mac Rattary while he ranted at his wife, who was kneeling beside the vampire, with a big chain held gingerly in her hands. She dragged her Nikes across the floor, making as little sound as possible, heart pounding fearfully in her chest.<p>

It wasn't every day she tackled a vampire drainer with no back up, but what choice did she have? Sam didn't care, Tara didn't care, and Andy Bellefluer wouldn't believe her if she told him the sky was blue. Sookie couldn't stand by without doing a single thing to help the vampire, even if he did kind of creep her out.

One more step, and Sookie brought the chain down ruthlessly of Mac's shoulder. He went down with a loud squeal of pain, and Denise's head shot up.

"Crazy bitch!" Mac cried, reaching back - and pulling a knife from his back. _Gonna cut that little - the hell does she think she is - teach her some respect -_

Without hesitation, Sookie flung the chain at his face - and the chain wrapped itself around his neck, squeezing until he choked, dropping to his knees. The knife fell to the floor, and Denise moved, but Sookie was quicker, snatching the blade and putting it to the other woman's throat.

"Don't even think about it, you backwards piece of trash!" Sookie spat.

Denise froze, fear in her eyes. She swallowed nervously. "Now, Sookie..."

"Don't," she snapped. She didn't enjoy the other woman's fear but she felt more confident now, with the knife in her hands and not theirs. Mac wheezed pathetically on the floor. "Grab him and get the hell out of here, or I _swear, _things will get ugly..."

Wary of the look in the younger woman's eyes and the knife held in her hands, Denise hurried to obey, grabbing Mac roughly by the back of his shirt, and her eyes darted to the IV bag beside the vampire.

Sookie stared at her fiercely, and Denise looked angry, but she started dragging the choking Mac across the floor, berating him loudly. As she watched them leave, Sookie muttered, "Consider yourself rescued," from the corner of her mouth to the vampire.

"You stupid cunt!" Denise called back to her, bravado returning with the distance. "Come _on_, Mac! You don't know who you're messing with! You don't wanna be on my bad side!"

Sookie's eyes widened in shock. "You _have_ a good side?" she made a show of peering at Denise's face. "Could be the lighting but I'm not seeing it, sweetheart!"

Dismissing Denise's crude suggestion as the two staggered out of her sight, Sookie moved over to the vampire, putting the knife down as she crouched beside him. "Hey, are you..."

For the first time, Sookie looked at the vampire. He was staring up at her, fangs out, white and pointy, a look of absolute astonishment on his face. There were thin silver chains over his arms, his white shirt was torn, and if she looked close enough, she could see a thin stream of smoke pouring off his skin. Swallowing, Sookie faintly remembered hearing something about vamps having an issue with silver from Tray Dawson.

"That'll be a no, then." Sookie peeled the chain slowly off his skin, grimacing at the resistance, and the sticky, red blood dripping... "Sweet Jesus." She held the silver chain up, horrorstruck to see bits and pieces of skin stuck to it.

From her side, there was the loud rumble of an engine firing up, and glancing back to see the approaching headlights, Sookie shoved the chain into her pocket, darting under the vampire's arm, sliding her arms under his elbows and ordered him, "Push with your feet!"

With some assistance from the vamp, Sookie was able to get them both out of the way just as the car zoomed by. She propped him up against a tree, and went to undo the belt around his arm. He flinched back from her, glaring, and she straightened up, looking down at him.

"Which is it?" Sookie asked, arching an eyebrow. Better safe than sorry, she pulled the bloodied chain out from her pocket and wrapped it around her neck.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you angry about being saved by a woman or by a human?"

"I am grateful for your assistance," the vamp said stiffly, undoing the belt himself.

"Really?" Sookie arched an eyebrow. "Cause you don't look it." Abruptly remembering herself, she shook her head. Pain tended to make her cranky, too. "Forget I said that, are you okay?"

"Yes," the vamp answered stiffly, retracting his fangs. "My wounds have healed."

Huh. So they had, like those nasty burns had never been there. "That's useful," Sookie noted, sitting down on a log a few feet from the vampire. She crossed her legs primly. In an impossibly fast blur, the vampire knelt down in front of her, face inches from hers.

"What are you?" he asked lowly.

Sookie was not unnerved by his speed or unphased with his proximity. After seeing a Were transform, it took a lot to alarm her. "Oh, honey," she grinned at him, gap-toothed and secretively. "Ain't that just the question of the decade?" When he frowned at her, she added, "Call me Sookie Stackhouse, and what's your name?"

He stared at her starkly, dramatically, the darkness clinging to his face, and he uttered..."Bill."

Sookie burst out laughing right in his face. "_Bill_?" she shrieked. "Your name is _Bill_?" Bill looked taken aback by her reaction, turning his head away from her to huff, a prissy look crossing his face. "The mailman is called Bill, one of my classmates was called Bill, but _vampire_ Bill?"

Laughter bubbled uncontrollably out of her mouth, and she wrapped an arm around her stomach. "I'm sorry," she giggled, amusement increasing at his incredibly put-out expression. "I'm real sorry, I swear mocking injured vampires isn't a hobby of mine. Uh, do you want me to leave?"

"No," Bill said grudgingly, looking like he really disagreed with what he was saying. "I'm still weakened, and they might come back."

"I can hang around for another couple of minutes, but then my friends will probably start getting worried..." Sookie snickered, ignoring his dark look. "Bill."

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><p>"I am not a goddamned psychic!" Sookie turned sharply on her heel, barely noticing Dawn's uncomfortable expression, and stormed away to confront Rene, Hoyt and Arlene.<p>

After turning away from them, Sookie caught sight of Bill, standing by a table. The man - vampire - whatever had a real talent for finding the creepest lighting to stand in and stare at her from.

Sookie had never been able to block others thoughts completely, only able to muffle them until it was all background noise, and the sheer, stunning _bliss_ of silence she'd discovered last night was more tempting than her Gran's cooking. But his disturbing offer of his blood last night had soured any fascination she may have felt towards him, leaving her in no mood to talk to him but Gran had looked so excited at the thought of Bill remembering the Civil War.

She walked over to him, ignoring the townfolk's reactions with practiced ease.

"Call on me?" Sookie repeated, stiffening.

As a pretty blonde waitress with curves, Sookie had perfected the better as friends speech. Bill seemed like the obsessive type. Usually, she would borrow Tara's lie about a mercanary boyfriend but he was a vampire.

"It means - "

"I know what it means," Sookie said sharply. "Look, Bill, I'm sure you're a nice guy but I don't date. At all. Ever."

She had in high school, trying to find a man who's mind and touch didn't make her shy away, and of course, she'd failed. The closest she had ever gotten was with JB, Jason's friend, but he was as dumb as a box of rocks.

"But I'd like us to be friends."

"Friends," Bill repeated quietly. He nodded slightly, smiling at her. "I would like that also."

Sookie smiled at him, batting away the scandalized thoughts hammering at her shields. "Can I ask you a favour after work? Not for me," she hurried to add. "But for my Gran?"

After asking if it would make her happy, Bill agreed to meet her after work at half one. "Do you realize every person in this establishment is staring at us?"

"Small town," Sookie explained, standing up, ignoring the thoughts of _slut, whore, pathetic fang-banger_. It was hardly anything new, no different from _freak, retard, Crazy Sookie_. "You'll get used to it."

Quirking her eyebrow amusingly at Bill, Sookie tried to go back to her tables, inwardly trying to guessing how long it would be before - two steps, and Sam was on her, hand curling tightly around her arm and hauling her into his office with Tara hot on his heels. Joy, an intervention.

"Sam, if you wanted a sexual harassment lawsuit, all you had to do was ask!" Sookie said sarcastically, wiggling out if his grip, flashing him a glare with burning brown eyes.

Used to her unique sense of humor by now, Sam was undeterred in his fury. "Damnit, Sookie! Do you have a death wish? Mac could have seriously cut you last night, and now you're setting up a date with a _vampire_?"

Filling away Sam's knowledge about last night, Sookie shook her head. "I'm not dating him, Sam."

"You better not be dating him!" Tara exploded. "And what the hell was that about Mac Rattary?"

"The slimeball went for me, I handled it like a big girl without any help from Daddy over there - oh, and, by the way, if you two were so worried about me last night, then maybe you should've helped me!"

"We're trying to help you now!" Sam screamed. "The next time you think somebody's about to be attacked in the damn parking lot, pick up the phone and call the police, do not go charging out there like some goddamn _vigilante_!"

"I had no time!" Sookie shot back, raising her voice, firmly convinced she was in the right. "They were already draining him by the time I'd got there, if I'd have waited any longer, it would've been too late!"

"He's already dead, Sookie!" Tara shrieked furiously.

_Don't you look at me like that when all I wanna do is protect you - love you, Sookie - could never - if something ever - I never noticed how she and Jason have the same eyes, brown and sweet - he could never kill any body._

Sam's thoughts were drowned out by Tara's but she caught enough to know that Sam felt deeply about her, more than she'd thought, and it was all too much for her.

"Stop!" Sookie shrieked. "Stop it! I know you're worried about me, and I'm real sorry I scared you last night but I am a grown woman! I am not dating Bill, I have no plans to date Bill! It would have been wrong to just let them drain him if I could've done something, and that isn't how my Gran raised me!"

Outburst over, Sookie pushed them out of her way and stormed out. Lala called her into the kitchen and hugged her. He was solid and warm against her, and Sookie slumped into his chest, tears burning her eyes.

"Don't pay them no mind, Sook," Lafayette told her. "They worried about you, is all."

"I don't need it today," she said, breathing his perfume in. "What with Jason..." she sighed, reluctantly pulling back to look up at him. "They're acting like I'm about to jump Bill just because I saved his life. I couldn't just let them drain him."

"Tall, dark and dead is a hot piece, Sook, but I know you better than that. I know you ain't interested. This Hello Kitty got claws, ain't no vampire gonna change that." Lafayette slapped her ass playfully, shocking a laugh out of her. "Now get your beautiful ass back out there."

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><p>Glancing around empty the parking lot, Sookie sighed and started to climb into her yellow car. Fuck Bill. If he wasn't about to show up on time, she wasn't waiting around for him like his mama. Before Sookie could get into her car, a hand twisted brutally in her hair and yanked her backwards.<p>

"Ah!" Sookie cried out, sparks of white-hot pain flying across her scalp.

"I told you, you stupid bitch!" Denise shrieked, just before Sookie jerked her elbow violently back into the other woman's ribs. Denise's grip slacked with a grunt, and Sookie twisted herself away, back slamming into the side of her yellow car.

Her breath was harsh, and her brown eyes were wide with shock, trying to take everything in. Her heart thumped frantically in her chest as she saw Mac bursting out of the bushes into the lot, and Denise straightening up with hatred in her eyes, ugly things in her thoughts.

Okay, so they out-numbered her. Sookie's face hardened. Like hell was she going to lay down and take it. Thrusting her shoulders back into the car, Sookie lunged forward and sucker-punched Denise in the gut, just as Mac yelled, "Hold her, baby!"

Knocking Denise's legs out from under her, Sookie managed to quip, "Sorry, honey," before Mac swung his fist at her. Having read the intent in his mind, Sookie was able to duck under his swing, getting behind him, clumsily twisting Mac's hand behind his back, and jerking it sharply up - until a sickening _pop_!

Mac screamed loudly in pain as his shoulder was dislocated, and Sookie shoved him to the floor, backing off, breathing heavily. She couldn't believe that had worked; a waitress against two drug dealers, and she hadn't been beaten down. Now, what did she do? Get in her car and drive away, then get ambushed tomorrow?

"Sookie!" Bill cried, bursting out of the trees in a blur. He stopped abruptly, looking stunned at Denise, who was gasping on the floor, and then at Mac, who was screaming piercely in pain.

Sam's trailer door flew open, and Sam hurried outside, looking at the scene in shock. "Sookie! You okay?"

"Peachy! Told you I can take care of myself," Sookie gasped, feeling herself beginning to tremble. Her teeth chattered. Was it adrenaline or shock? Both? Either way, she hated feeling so vulnerable and weak. Reaching into her pocket, she tossed her phone to Bill. Though still shocked, he caught it easily, finally looking at her. "Call the police."

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><p><strong>Aw, Sookie, the biggest threat to the male ego since Xena. <strong>

**Readers, you have a choice; skip to Eric or linger with Sookie for a while?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

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><p>"You apprehended the suspects yourself, Miss Stackhouse?" Andy Bellefluer asked, his voice deep and grumbling like churning cogs.<p>

Sookie shook her head in irritated disbelief. "We've been though this already, Detective. I stopped the Rattarys from draining Bill in the parking lot last night. They woke up on the wrong side of the bed about the whole thing, flipped out and tried to ambush me tonight. Just ask Sam or Tara if you think I imagined the whole thing."

She and Andy had been in the same room for almost half an hour, and Sookie's temper was running short, sharpening her tongue. Usually, she tried to keep herself somewhat in check around Andy, Kenya and Shrieff Dearborn but between her brother's arrest and how Andy kept on repeating the same questions, her tolerance for law enforcement was low.

They had done one thing right, however; Denise Rattary was in a cell (haha!) while Mac was being treated for his dislocated shoulder.

"Kenya is checking your story with Sam Merlotte and Vampire Bill." Andy Bellefluer puffed up, like a hedgehog trying to make itself seem more threatening. "What I want to know is why you didn't call law enforcement when you 'overheard' Mac and Denise Rattary planning to attack Mister Compton."

Hands on the table, leaning back in the chair, Sookie stared Andy down easily. "It was the one night none of you were in the bar, I didn't have time to phone in and wait for you to mount a white horse."

The subtle jab at his drinking habits outraged Andy. "Miss Stackhouse," he gritted with a clenched jaw.

Before he could continue, the door opened, and Shrieff Dearborn looked in. "Have you recorded Miss Stackhouse's statement, Andy?"

"We're still going over the - " Andy started.

"I'm done," interjected Sookie, rising from her chair. Andy rose with her, looking indignant. "And unless you plan on releasing my brother, I plan on going home before my Gran gives herself a heart attack. I was expected home an hour ago."

"Your brother was released not long ago," Shrieff Dearborn told her.

Sookie was pleasantly surprised by this, blinking. "Huh. So I guess jumping up and down and saying 'I do believe in law enforcement! I do! I do!' actually works."

Andy's red face darkened to a worrying maroon, but Bud Dearborn accepted her comment with a tired look on his face. Having known her as a kid, he thought of her as more traumatized than retarded.

"What?" Andy Bellefluer blurted. "That's bullcrap! Jason Stackhouse is guilty!"

"Apparently not," Sookie pointed out, sternly reminding herself how upset her Gran would be if she gloated. Andy glared at her briefly, and she frowned at him, faintly concerned by how flustered he looked. "You should get your blood pressure checked out. It doesn't look healthy from where_ I'm_ standin'."

Forcibly ignoring her, Andy tried to 'reason' with Bud. "We got him! On tape with Maudette!"

"_What_?" Oh, eww. Had - did that mean - there was no way Jason would film _that_, would he? Who was she kidding? Of course, he would.

"Andy!" Shrieff Dearborn snapped, and Andy reluctantly fell silent, jaw clenched. "Your brother is waiting for you, Sookie."

Shaking her head in mute horror, Sookie moved past the two police men. To her surprise, Bill and Jason were standing opposite each other, clearly at an impasse, glaring at each other.

"For the record, I am not measuring anything, and how dare you ask such a thing?" Sookie declared. The two men turned towards her.

"Sookah," Bill said, looking like he was about to move to her but Jason beat him to it, thank God.

"Sook!" Jason exclaimed, rushing forward to clasp her in a tight hug. Almost able to feel his concern, Sookie smiled slightly and hugged her brother back tightly, feeling something inside of her ease. Jason didn't pull away at once, seeming to need the hug as much as she did. Not a shock. Andy Bellefluer had probably been rabidly declaring his guilt all day long.

When they pulled away, Jason held her face for a moment, brown eyes looking for any injuries. "Are you alright? Shrieff Dearborn told me those fuckin' Rats went after you."

"I'm fine, Jason," Sookie said reassuringly, allowing his worried search. "I dropped Denise before she could do more than pull my _hair_, and Mac didn't get anywhere near me."

Jason's face split into a wide grin. "You did? Ha! That's my sister!" he boasted proudly, kissing her forcefully on the forehead.

Bill cleared his throat quietly, and Jason's smile faded into a scowl. "Sam asked me to pass on his apologizes for leaving so soon."

"Speaking of leaving," Jason said, not addressing Bill, "I'll drive you home, Sook."

Unsurprised by Jason's reaction, Sookie shot Bill an apologetic look. She was holding off on thinking about how coincidental his timing had been. Was there an actual reason to be concerned or was she being paranoid? What did Bill have to gain by letting her fight the Rattarys? She was a nobody...with a big secret, but that was it - it was a _secret_.

"Thanks," she said to Jason. Bill nodded farewell to her as Jason lead her out of the station with a tight arm around her shoulders. When she looked back, he was standing perfectly still and staring at her. Good Lord, but that was creepy.

"I know I ain't Daddy," said Jason carefully when they pulled up outside Gran's house. He was clearly remembering the last time he had tried to parent her, when she was dating JB, and the epic screaming match that had followed.

"I'm not dating him," Sookie informed him in a monotone, unbuckling her seat belt, rolling her eyes. Jason looked relieved. "For Heaven's sake, why do people suddenly think I'm going to put out for him when I've been happily celebate for twenty-four-years."

Jason looked awkwardly at her. "Well, he's a vamp..."

"Exactly. He's a vampire, not Johnny Depp." Opening her door, Sookie looked back at her brother. "Night, big brother."

Jason returned the greeting, and Sookie walked into the house, hearing Jason drive off as soon as the door locked behind her. For all his faults, Jason loved her and Gran fiercely. Tina meowed loudly, and Sookie swept the cat up in her arms, catching sight of her Gran at the kitchen table.

Gran was asleep, a half-made quilt in her lap, wrinkled face peaceful. Waiting for her. A wave of warmth filled Sookie, and she smiled softly, putting Tina down to wake her Gran up before she got a stiff neck.

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><p>It was a good thing Sookie had decided to tell Gran about her fight with the Rattarys before going to bed last night because the next morning was a busy one. The door was repeatedly knocked on, bringing the 'concerned' questions of their nosy neighbours, looking for inside details of the fight last night.<p>

Rene and Arlene came over with her kids, and Sam checked in on her. Lafayette stopped by with Tara. Lala had been in his usual sprits, wolf-whistling at Sookie's mini-dress ("Damn, Hookah! No wonder Sam was smilin'.")

In her furious worry, Tara had ended up apologizing to Gran for swearing several times. Lafayette drew her Gran into the kitchen to give them some privacy, and the two girls curled up together on the couch.

"I would lose it if anything ever happened to you," Tara admitted.

Sookie wrapped an arm around her, pressing their sides together, winking playfully. "Then I guess I'll have to do my best to make sure nothing ever happens to me - you're crazy enough without me adding to it."

"Bitch," Tara punched Sookie's arm, unable to stop the grin crossing her face. "Like Hell if _I'm_ the craziest person between us. You went after two vampire drainers with a chain!"

"That doesn't make me crazy!" Sookie protested, dark eyes sparkling. "That makes me kickass, doll face. I hear voices in my head, _that_ makes me the crazy one."

Tara laughed hard, leaning into Sookie's side. "Damn, Sook. How do you always make me laugh about this shit? I was so scared when Lafayette told me 'bout this..."

"It's another one of my super powers," explained Sookie, a smirk curving her mouth. She pressed her lips chastely to Tara's, her amusement softening into platonic love. "I've really gotten into the habit of scaring you, haven't I?"

"Ain't that the motherfucking truth," Lafayette declared, entering the sitting room, holding a pitcher of sweet tea for her Gran, who cleared her throat delicately. "Sorry, Ms Stackhouse."

In response to Sookie's whipping sound, Lafayette made an obscene sound of enjoyment.

When dark fell, another knock sounded. After Gran shot down her suggestions to pretend they weren't home, Sookie opened the door, and suddenly felt extremely glad she had changed into more suitable clothes.

"Sookie," Bill greeted, staring at her solemnly, like they were at a funeral. "I hope you are feeling well."

"Peachy," she answered brightly, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. Vampires couldn't come in without an invitation, and her Gran was polite enough to issue one. "What are you doing here?"

_How the hell do you know where my house is? _Lord, it would be just her luck to have gained a stalker.

Bill looked stung. "I came to see if you were alright after last nights events. A lady should not be forced to defend herself so harshly."

Sookie laughed at him, moving across the porch to lean against the railing. "Yeah, well, this 'lady' is a waitress from Louisiana, and she can defend herself quite well, thank you very much."

"As I discovered last night," Bill muttered, coming to stand with her. "Sookie, you wished to ask a favour of me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Considering our conversation so far, you might be perfect for this." With such an outdated value about women and the stones to voice it outloud, Bill was either old or an even bigger asshole than she's thought. "My Gran is a Civil War nut. She and a couple of others, mostly old folk, have this club, Descendants of the Glorious Dead."

"The glorious dead?" Bill repeated, increased. "There is nothing glorious about dying in a war. A bunch of starving, freezing boys killing each other so the rich people can stay rich. Madness."

Sookie shrugged. "If thinking about the sugar-coated stories of history makes people feel closer to their dead relatives, why burst their bubble?"

Outrage dimming, Bill looked at her. "You live with your grandmother."

"My parents died in a flash flood when I was seven, Gran took me and my brother in." It was an old wound, one circumstances had forced her to heal from fast. There was only so much pain a seven-year-old could deal with at once.

"I owe her a lot," Sookie continued, not allowing the truth to seep into her voice. She wasn't about to get all weepy on a man just shy of being a stranger. "It would make her real happy, and I'd be obliged to return the favour."

If anything, Bill owed her a favour but Gran could really use the happy news, after last night.

"I will talk to your grandmother if it will please you," Bill claimed. It was obvious he hadn't taken her Never-Gonna-Happen speech to heart. Wonderful. She would have to keep him in check.

In the end, at her insistance, Bill admitted that he was having trouble getting an electrician over to his place, and Sookie promised to stop by Jesse Compton's old house with some information after work before heading back inside.

* * *

><p>As she jotted down the orders of a table of horny, leering college jock, Sookie couldn't help but agree with Tara's rant about the waitress uniforms being too damn skimpy. Before she could step away from the table, a hand squeezed her ass.<p>

Fury swelled through Sookie, and she swirled, reeling her fist back. Her fist smashed into his nose with a crack, and Sookie reeled her arm back in, trying to shake the pain away.

"You bitch!" the leering jerk exclaimed, hands flying to his face, blood splurting all over his fingers, drops hitting the table.

"If you can read, you should know that I'm not on the damn menu! Asshole!"

While most of his friends were frozen in shock, one of them got up and made an aggressive move towards her. He made one step before Sookie lashed out hurriedly with her foot, slamming her foot deep into his groin. He let out a cry of pain, knees hitting the floor with a crack.

As Sookie moved away from his reach, there was an echoed cry of pain from behind her. Whirling, she realized that the groper had tried to move towards her, and Rene had him in a headlock.

"Let go, man!" the groper screamed, struggling uselessly in Rene's grip. "I can't breath!"

"Then I'm thinkin' you better apologize before you pass out, yeah?" Rene said, tightening his grip, so the boy choked.

"Sorry! Sorry!" the boy gasped out.

"Apology not accepted," Sookie turned her gaze to Rene, dimly aware that a hushed silence had fallen over the bar. What a crazy week. "You should let him go. I doubt he has all that many brain cells left, and there's no need to make things worse."

Snorting, Rene released the boy after a few seconds. "I'm think you and your friends need to find some place else to eat, yeah?" The two remaining boys hurried to their feet, one of them helped up the boy Sookie had floored, and the other edged past Rene. "Don't you look at me, you."

Amused but keeping her stern expression, Sookie waited until the boys were out of the way before widening her eyes playfully. "Huh, you know you and me make a great team, Rene. I got dibs on Batman." Dropping the sarcasm, Sookie smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks for gettin' involved."

Rene grinned at her fondly, crossing his arms over his chest. "From where I was standin', you didn't need my help. You're a feisty girl, Sookie. 'Minds me of my baby sister, hm." His arms uncrossed to tuck a blonde curl off her face. The gesture was soft but a shadow passed through his brown eyes. "And I hope to God somebody stick up for her if some asshole does her, even if she don't need it."

The rest of her shift was a nightmare - shaken up by the feel of a forceful, unwanted hand on her body, Sookie ended up responding to Arlene's thoughts, then she ended up being issued an open invitation to his mind by Sam, who didn't seem to understand her _at all_, then there was the news about Rev. Newland and his family. Not even Lafayette could cheer her up when most of Bon Temps seemed to think Rene was cheating on Arlene with her.

All Sookie wanted to do was curl up in bed with Tina and a book, but she forced herself to head on over to Bill's.

Reluctant as hell described her mood as Sookie parked her car and trecked up the stairs to the front door of Bill's house. Pausing, she could faintly detect music, and her spirts lifted slightly. If Bill had company, it gave her an excuse to hurry home.

Wait. Hold the phone. Bill had company. Vampire company, judging by the blissful silence. She wasn't naive enough to assume all vampires were pro-True Blood, nor was she small-minded enough to believe that all vampires were soulless monsters. Bill seemed too self-righteous to hang around with the second type.

Conflicted, Sookie hesitated on the porch before turning away, moving towards the stairs. Behind her, the door opened, and Sookie whirled around to face a tall black woman wearing very skimpy clothes, propped up in the doorway.

"Well, hey there, little human chick."

Sookie's instincts prickled warningly, telling her very plainly that these were Type 2 vampires, and oh, yeah, that she was screwed. Or maybe that was common sense. Regardless, Sookie smiled crazily at the vampire, playing it cool. "Evening. I'm Sookie Stackhouse. I've got some information here for Bill Compton. Is he inside?"

The woman arched an eyebrow at her composure, as a man came from behind her. He was scrawny with a silly goatee and greasy brown hair in a messy tail.

"She smells fresh." His fangs clicked down, white and sharp, as did the woman's. The sound was copied from behind her, sending a sharp note of fear racing up her spine, but she didn't dare glance around.

"As a dasiy," Sookie said dryly, standing stiffly. She felt vulnerable, surrounded on all sides by malicious people hungry for her, and hunted. It was a horrible, rattling feeling that Sookie was not a stranger too. Damn Uncle Bartlett.

"Maybe you ought to come inside," the male vampire purred, giving her an intense look, dark eyes moving hungrily over her body.

"Maybe you ought to go fuck yourself," Sookie fired back recklessly, shrugging her shoulders sadly.

There were three clicks as fangs were withdrawn in shock. "What?" a male voice demanded from behind her. "Malcolm - "

"I can't glamour her," Malcolm said, frowning. "What _are_ you?"

Tray Dawson had told her about glamouring, but he hadn't said anything about other (probable) supernaturals being able to resist it. A wave of intense relief swept through Sookie. Since discovering vampires, glamouring had been her greatest fear. Being controlled...being forced into doing something and being totally helpless to stop it yet again...

"Tricky question," Sookie answered, riding the high of her relief. "I can tell you that I'm_ not_ a were or a vampire or a witch. But hey, maybe I am just Plain Jane human, and you just suck at gl - "

Malcolm and the woman were pushed aside, and Bill zipped to her side at vamp speed, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Sookie," he said urgently, glancing at the vampires. "You must leave."

"Aw, but we weren't done having fun with her yet!" For the first time, Sookie looked at the whining vampire behind her. He was big and bald with tattoos, and something tugged at Sookie's memory.

"Yes, you were," Bill snapped, keeping his front to the other vampire, and a hand on her shoulder as she moved down the steps. "This is my house, you are guests! Go back inside!"

With jeering laughter and a derisive comment or five, the three went back inside. Bill turned on her the moment the door closed. "You should not be so bold - "

"Don't start!" Sookie snapped, jerking her arm aggressively out of his grip. "I'm not naive. I know they would have drained me - and _only_ that if I was _incredibly_ lucky, and that isn't how my life rolls - no matter what I said or how I acted, so don't expect me to sit quiet and wish them all well while they do it to me."

She had made that mistake once before - and never again. Shoving the information into his chest, Sookie yanked her car door open and drove away.

* * *

><p>As it was her day off, Sookie slept in late, barely waking up in time to have breakfast with her Gran before heading outside to sunbath and get her thoughts in order, mostly Sookie found herself thinking about how the chain had wrapped around Mac's neck.<p>

Her telepathy was the most blatantly supernatural attribute to manifest, but there was no doubt what had happened was not simply dumb luck. And her immunity to being glamoured by those creepy freaks over at Bill's last night added weight to her theory.

Around 11, her cell started to ring, and checking the caller ID, Sookie answered it with reluctance. It was Sam, asking her to check in on Dawn. After agreeing, Sookie hurried inside to change into a denim skirt and a blue top, and then drove over to Dawn's.

The door was unlocked. The house was quiet. Calling out to Dawn with no response, Sookie checked in the bedroom.

Dawn was laying on the bed, beautiful dark hair splayed over the light sheets. A sheet covered her form, bruises colored her neck, and a fly buzzed around her body.

All her breath left Sookie's lungs in a shocked exhale, and she inched closer to Dawn, already knowing, but having to be sure. Eyes stinging, mouth falling open, Sookie looked at Dawn's bright blue eyes. They wide open and staring blankly up at the ceiling, no life, no spark.

For a split second, Sookie was numb with shock, and then a feeling of aching emptiness dawned. Barely aware of her own actions, Sookie moved the sheet to cover Dawn more modestly - and her eyes fell on a vampire's bite mark. Instantly, her mind flashed to Bill's guests.

"Oh, _sweetie_, what did you get yourself into?" Sookie said softly. And why did she get the feeling that question could cover them both?

Sookie heard her brother's painfully unaware thoughts before his footsteps, but it was a moment before the thought flashed through her mind - he didn't need to see this - and by the time it had, Jason was already standing in the room, and a vase shattered on the floor.

* * *

><p>If one more person trash-thought her brother, Sookie was going to lose it and start a killing spree herself. Jason was a selfish manwhore but he was her big brother, and if she loved him enough to get into a cat-fight in the middle of a church because she'd overheard his 'pregnant' girlfriend thinking about how she'd faked said pregnancy, she loved him enough to do this.<p>

Fangtasia, a vamp bar in Shreveport. The name made Sookie want to bang her head against a solid surface, and Bill's reaction to her request to take her there made the desire even stronger.

Sookie gazed at herself in the vanity up in her bedroom. Her lips were painted red to match the pretty red flowers on her tight white dress. Her blonde hair fell below her shoulders in loose curls, hiding her silver earrings from view.

"It isn't a date," Sookie told her Gran, who was standing in the doorway with a smile. "I'm doing this for Jason. I couldn't pick up on any thoughts about what happened with Dawn, so Plan B."

Gran smiled sweetly and agreed, though Sookie could sense when she was being humored. She gained the exact same expression from Bill around the time he called her 'Vampire Bait' while trying to avoid her questions about Fangtasia. Condesending SOB. To make things worse, Pam and Long Shadow seemed to have gotten the same impression.

At this rate, Sookie was going to need 'I'm not dating Bill Compton' engraved on her damned gravestone.

"What do you think of the place?" Bill asked, wry amusement in his voice.

Sookie glanced around pointedly at the red and black color theme, the half naked vampire dancers, and the human beings...Lord, their thoughts made her skin crawl with disgust and pity. It was a wonder so much desperation and ugliness could fit in one room.

"I'm torn," Sookie stated, sipping her Gin and Tonic warily. Not too terrible. "This place is either a very tacky ride at Disneyland or a new layer of Hell. I haven't decided yet."

A flare of light bounced off a head of golden hair, and Sookie's eyes followed the unexpected flash of color. There was a man slouched on a large throne. His hair was a pale shade of blonde, reaching his collarbone, hiding most of his undoubtably handsome face from her view.

His form was built for intimidation. Even sitting down, she could tell he was incredibly tall, and he was built like the comic book version of Thor, only dressed in tight black leather pants and a black shirt, hotter than hell. An air of power and control surrounded him. He looked like a fallen god, raw power radiated from him, both sexual and physical.

Sookie didn't go for bad boys or tough men or sexually aggressive men. It was too threatening. She preferred light-hearted and fun men, like JB. But she felt a strong stab of lust, shortening her breath, especially when she noticed the man had a pair of light, icy blue eyes. How did she know this? His eyes were turned towards her. Sookie looked away first, absently noticing a weedy man was walking up to Throne Guy.

"Noticed him have you?" Bill sounded petulant, like a pissy child.

"Bill, the man is sitting on a _throne_ and built like William Wallace's buff twin, I would be seriously worried if I had managed to miss him."

"William Wallace isn't too far off. He is the oldest thing in this bar."

Sookie's eyes flitted back to the man. It was impossible to be sure, but he _did_ look Norse. "Viking?" she murmured questioningly, just as the weedy man placed a hand on Throne Guy's thigh - bad idea, she knew instinctively, wincing - and then the weedy man was flying across the bar with a cry of pain, smashing into the wall with an awful _thudding_ noise.

Startled, concern bursting through her, Sookie went to stand up to help him, but Bill pulled her back down. Reacting to the feel of his uninvited hand on her bare skin, Sookie jerked her wrist viciously out of his hold with a hiss, "You _really_ need to stop grabbing at me, Bill Compton, before I test how a boot to the groin effects vampires."

Bill looked alarmed, slightly angry. "I apologize. I was simply trying to tell you that there is no need." She followed his gaze to where a half-naked woman - vampire - was helping the weedy man up from the floor.

"That happens a lot here," he added, trying to dispell the tension in Sookie's form. Bill smiled at her, and she could read the hurt behind that forced gesture. Usually, she would try to make amends but Sookie didn't handle being grabbed well - even Jason knew to give her some kind of warning these days. Mortification set in, but Sookie stubbornly refused to let it take root. "Still think this is Disneyland?"

Remembering the times she had been forced to put a customer in their place, Sookie shook her head and glanced down at her drink, avoiding his gaze. "I think that was actually the most normal thing about this place..."

Bill looked disgruntled by her opinion, like he expected her to be swooning and shrieking at the show of violence (has he even been anywhere near the South in the last fifty years?), and she hitched up an eyebrow, staring coolly across the table at him. Bill glanced away, eyes flitting to the direction Throne Guy was in, and then snapping back to her her.

"Uh-oh."

"Did you just say uh-oh?" Sookie asked incredulously, arching her eyebrow for all its worth. _Oh no_, she could understand, but who actually said _uh-oh_? Then when the meaning behind those words set in, she felt a flash of panic. "Wait, wait, _wait_ - why uh-oh? Don't leave me hanging here, Bill."

"Eric is looking at you. He's about to summon us."

Sookie looked over at Throne Guy - Eric - with her eyebrows raised. He lifted a hand, and crooked a finger enticingly at her - like a sexy version of _come and play._ Wisely ignoring her first instinct which was to crook a certain finger back at him, Sookie returned her gaze to Bill.

"_Uh-huh_, and why, exactly, would he be able to summon us?"

Standing up, Bill replied, "Eric is Shrieff of Area Five - Louisiana. As a vampire in his area, I must obey him."

"I said us, not you," Sookie reminded him though not rudely, remaining seated, frowning at him. "I'm not a vampire, of Area Five or otherwise, so why would this 'summoning' deal include me?"

* * *

><p><strong>I am a cruel bitch, aren't I?<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**I am a terrible person, remorselessly butchering Swedish with the help of an online translation site. Forgive me. **

**This chapter is much shorter than I intended to post but I wanted to see what you all thought of this Eric before going much further, and ruining the entire fic. **

* * *

><p>Bill stood still, clearly floundering for the right argument. Sookie waited politely for a few moments before realizing that Bill was grasping at straws. Those light blue eyes burned into her figure from across the room, sardonically amused at her actions but unyielding.<p>

Smug bastard. Sookie wanted to defy him on principle alone by getting up and marching out of the club but she had a feeling he would come after her, and there was no way she was leaving without at least trying to find something to help Jason. The things she did for her idiot brother.

Besides Bill _had_ brought her here. It would be terrible of her to just leave him hanging.

"I didn't think so," she murmured, mostly unsurprised by his lack of proper reason. With a sigh, Sookie pushed herself up from the table, downing her drink and gestured Bill ahead with a small smirk. "Ladies first."

Bill frowned at her, ready to protest, before conceding with a weak sigh of protest. It was a condescending sigh, a _Grow-Up_ sigh. Sookie responsed with her sunniest, most sarcastic smile, tilting her head to the side. As instructed, Bill lead her through the crowd of barely-clad fangbangers.

There was a sharp rise in antitipation with each step closer to the man on the throne, Eric, until the feeling was almost painfully strong. Sookie let her eyes drift to the crowd, peeling back the weakest, smallest layer of her shields. The thoughts gushed through her ears, petty and cringeful, but easy enough to ignore - if anyone thought of Jason Stackhouse, Dawn Greene or Maudette Pickens, she would pick up on it.

Bill offered her a hand up the dais, but Sookie shook her head slightly, and climbed the stairs herself, coming to stand in front of Eric and Pam. Eric was silent for a moment, studying them with unreadable, mesmorising blue eyes, and Pam smirked at his side.

"Sookie Stackhouse," he said finally, rolling her name out in a slow, savouring tone. His voice was a dark rumble, seemingly designed to hit a girl low in the stomach. Lafayette would have called it a panties-melting voice, and he would not have been wrong. His accent was difficult to place, but certainly not American.

"Wow," she murmured flatly, raising her eyebrows, not buying his intimidation tricks. "Two seconds into a conversation, and I'm already _totally_ freaked out."

"Sookie," Bill hissed, going to grab her, but Sookie moved her arm out of his grasp, delicately clasping her hands over her stomach.

"15 seconds ago, Bill," Sookie reminded him lowly but fiercely, referring to her warning about being grabbed.

"I like her," Pam purred suggestively, running her eyes lewdly over Sookie's form.

"Den här är min," Eric stated, a hard element of control in his voice though his posture remained laid-back. Sookie didn't have to understand his words to know she didn't approve of them, but it made Pam back off with an annoyed roll of her eyes. Bill, however, looked almost constipated.

If Eric noticed, he did not care. He was, infact, paying far more mind to Sookie than Bill, blue eyes burning remorselessly through her tight white dress, predatory and covetous. She hoped x-ray vision wasn't one of his talents.

"Would you be the same Sookie Stackhouse to subdue two drainers in Bon Temps?"

Sookie tilted her head to the side, trying not to feel too threatened by his unrelenting stare of apprasial. It made sense that a vampire shrieff would be aware of that. "Yes."

"How...interesting," Eric drawled. Another burst of light caught of his blonde hair, highlighting his face. He looked dangerous, big and bad, all clad in black. His eyes moved over her tiny stature, and fierce, dark eyes. "Well, aren't you full of surprises."

The glint in his light eyes suggested he wanted to learn every one of her surprises..._extensively _as the night wore on.

Sookie smiled at him, containing a playful edge of seduction and sex. There was no way it was going to happen, she and any man, period, but she knew how to play the game. _Telepath_. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Eric smiked at her in response, icy blue eyes hot in a way that made heat fizzle in her lower gut. "We'll see," he said promisingly.

"I'm betting we won't," Sookie retorted calmly but firmly, feeling Bill bristle at her side.

Eric made a small sound of amusement, too elegant to be called a snort, like he didn't quite believe her. "Well see," he repeated before growing serious. "I understand you have been asking questions about some of my customers."

"Do you mind if I ask _you_ some questions?" Sookie turned the statement around on him, and he dipped his head in acquiescence. Turning her head away from him, she withdrew the two photos of Dawn and Maudette and showed them to him. "You recognize either one of these girls?"

Eric finally dropped his piercing eyes from her face and her body to the two photos. Bill edged closer to Sookie, making the hair on the back of her neck rise. An instinct urged her to shy away not from Eric, who was far more sexually aggressive and physically threatening, but Bill, who had done his best to help her.

Stubbornness made Sookie hold her ground, but she filled this away for later thought. To some degree, she had grown used to her discomfort with strong sexual natures, no longer freezing up, too startled to react, but this was different, somehow.

"This one offered herself to me," Eric said, pointing a long, pale finger at the smaller picture. Maudette. His lips pressed together briefly before his intense gaze swept back up to Sookie. "I found her too pathetic for my attentions."

Sookie was unimpressed by his callous words, arching her eyebrow to let him know this. Eric seemed amused by her disapproval. "Now, this one, however... I have tasted."

"I remember them both," Pam said, drawing Sookie's eyes from Eric. "Never had either of them, though. They weren't really my type."

For a moment, Sookie was tempted to ask what Pam's type was but she had a pretty good idea from how Pam had been looking at her. None of the three names had jumped out at her from the fangbangers thoughts but there was still a chance to help Jason, and that was more vital than bantering with Eric and Pam.

"Peachy," Sookie said cheerfully, stowing the photos away, and flipping back her long blonde hair. "It was nice meeting you both, and I'm real sorry for takin' up so much of your time."

Sookie made to leave, and Bill put a hand at the base of her spine, ready to follow. A sharp shock of unexplainable emotions jolted through Sookie, and she twisted gracefully around on her heel to face Bill, dark eyes wild, eyebrows high, an angry flush rising in her cheeks.

"Don't - " she spat furiously before closing her eyes, forcefully regaining her temper, clamping down on the urge to nail him in the soft spot.

"Two minutes ago, Bill. Two goddamn minutes ago. Unless vampires can develop alzheimers, we're going to have a big problem here," she said lightly with an unstable grin, eyes shooting sparks, gesturing with a forced edge of comedy between them.

Bill was staring at her in surprise, and she could already see him dismissing her actions. Her anger increased, bringing her blood to boiling point. Sookie could feel an undercurrent of energy charging through her, making her stance firm and steady, ready to haul off and swing for him at a moments notice.

A deep chuckle broke through the air between Sookie and Bill. With a start, Sookie's eyes landed on Eric, who beckoned her closer, pink lips curved in a smirk. "I'm not finished with you just yet, Miss Stackhouse. Please," he gestured to the bar stool beside his throne with a fluid wave of his hand. "Sit."

Eric tried to stare her down but Sookie held his gaze unflinchingly, just to prove she wasn't about to trip over her melting panties for him. "We can finish this conversation in the privacy of my office, if you would prefer."

There was no polite way to say no way in fucking hell, so Sookie took a step toward the bar stool, just as Bill opened his mouth. "Sookie is mine."

Sookie froze, every muscle in her body went ridgid, a storm of fiery rage and bone-deep disgust twisted from the pits of her stomach, filling every inch of her body with the urge to react, to lash out at this possessive tone - like she was a piece of fucking furniture, or a helpless child all over again.

There were certain subjects that hit Sookie hard, triggering an almost beserk level of fury in her. It terrified her, how angry certain things could make her. She had been raised to defend herself, the rape had simply pushed her vicious streak to the surface, not to attack people mindlessly, like some monster.

_Bend, break or don't_, the mantra passed through her mind obsessively. Was she going to break the few principles her Gran had managed to imprint on her, for Bill Compton? Not a chance in hell.

"Sookie," she hissed, head turning slowly to pin Bill with her wildly furious eyes, fists clenched painfully tight with barely restrained violence, "Is her own."

"I, for one, am glad to hear that," Eric mused, fangs snapping down with a small click.

Rage was swiftly replaced by wariness, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Bill looked frantically between the two blondes, Eric smirking and Sookie frowning, and interjected, "Sookie - "

"Not another word, Compton," Eric commanded forcefully, his voice easily silencing Bill. "While it may suit the AVL's purposes, it would be a shame to vampire's everywhere if one of us were seen being beaten to a bloody pulp by a young human woman in a public setting, and I am disinclined to stop her."

"Even one so delicious," Pam sighed.

"Sit down, Miss Stackhouse," ordered Eric, speaking less harshly to her than Bill but the commanding note never wavered in his voice.

Before Sookie could act on her urge to remain unyielding and fling a sarcastic comment the muscular blonde's way, a word snagged her attention - _police_. Her head jerked to the side, immediately locating the correct person.

_Back-up was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, I can't handle this whole place by myself - _

"We have to leave," Sookie blurted, dark eyes widening in panic as her head whipped around to focus on Eric, who was looking at her oddly. "Eric, there's going to be a raid."

Eric arched an eyebrow at her, before suddenly his expression locked up, containing a hint of danger. "Tell me you are not an undercover cop."

"Because I would totally be warning you if I was," Sookie said with scalding sarcasm, temper heating up with her anxiety.

Eric conceded her point with a small movement of his head. "Even if you are right, we do nothing illegal here."

"_Really_?" she questioned doubtfully, dragging the word out. "You absolutely sure about that? Sure enough to risk gettin' silvered by a bunch of scrawny morons in uniform?"

"No vampire would be foolish enough to break bar-rules," Eric said stiffly, eyes drifting over the oblivious crowd.

"Except the woman named Taryn who is currently feedin' off the man you knocked across the room earlier in the bathrooms. But while we're on the subject of feeding, you might wanna retract your fangs. Now, would you please put the Paranoid Bastard get-up back in the closet and _listen_ to me before we end up in a jail cell?"

Eric looked at her dangerously, patience clearly running thin with her sharp tongue, but before he could speak, the door to Fangtasia was flung open, and a SWAT team poured in. The customers burst into a panic, trying to flee, shouts echoing off the walls.

Eric was on his feet within an instant, and even in her shock, Sookie couldn't help but marvel at his towering height. "Follow me," he barked, darting to the side, where Sookie spotted the dark outline of a door.

Sookie followed after Pam with Bill at her back, matching the vampire woman's speed. Vampire or not, she had to admire how fast Pam moved in her four-inch heels.

"How did you know?" Pam demanded as Eric flung a door open ahead of them and burst out of the club.

The fact that she was surrounded by three incredibly strong vampires had been niggling at Sookie's instinct of self-preservation all night, but her motto had urged her to ignore how much of a dangerous situation she was in. In a way, Sookie had been child-proofing her usual behaviour until overhearing about the raid.

Now, her common sense was battling with her personality. It was too late to blend in (wearing a white dress to a vampire bar, _bad idea_) but not further pissing off the Dead Blonde Duo couldn't hurt.

"I can read minds," Sookie confessed sarcastically. Not a lie, but surely, they wouldn't believe her. No one else had, and that was when she actually tried to make them believe her. "But that really isn't the most important thing right now."

The second Sookie's heel hit the concrete outside, she looked back to check on Bill, who was a mere step behind her.

"I disagree," Eric said, smooth, intimate voice hitting her ears. Sookie's blonde head whipped around, just in time to see his form blurring, and then an arm made of pure muscle was sweeping her knees out from under her, and she was being lifted up, up, up into Eric's arms, head smacking into his broad chest.

The stab of pain, the unexpected touch, made Sookie spit out an instinctive curse. "Son of a bitch! Put me the hell down!"

Eric's chest rumbled under her ears with a silent laugh, and then his huge muscles were flexing, and Bill was screaming her name, and Eric took off. Into the air. Like a bird, like a plane, like an airborn, kidnapping son of a bitch vampire.

The air wooshed past them as Eric shot off into the sky, assaulting her ears. Gripped to his chest as she was, Sookie couldn't struggle or fight, and she wasn't plain stupid enough to bite him - God only knows what kind of instincts that would provoke - but she could swear.

And she did, as loudly and viciously as Jason had taught her when they were kids. It was more than she'd done with _him_, and it helped, like her Gran singing Hey Jude, or Jason's skinny arms wrapping around her in a misunderstood hug whenever he'd caught her crying after that night.

The air wasn't quite loud enough to drown out the faint, ringing sound of Eric's laughter. Somehow, that helped too.

* * *

><p><strong>What Eric is <em>supposed <em>to be saying is this - "This one is mine." But Hell knows what it actually says...**

**Remember to tell me how much I messed up Eric's character. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>The gritty grey streets of Shreveport eventually bleed into the more familiar, earthy green of Bon Temps, and Sookie kept mumbling curses into Eric's shirt, feeling the air rushing past her. It was a warm night but Sookie could feel an understandable chill in the air.<p>

Being kidnapped by a flying 6'4 Viking Vampire? So _not_ on her wishlist.

Sookie purposefully kept her thoughts light and flippant, ignoring the dark whispers of what he _could_ do to her, and how she didn't have a hope of stopping him. She refused to be the atypical screaming blonde victim.

"You are a foul-mouthed little human," Eric informed her, as though this should come as a complete surprise to her.

"Who _isn't_ short compared to you?" Sookie pointed out smartly against his muscular chest.

Despite what most people she encounted tended to think, Sookie was not stupid. She was hot-headed and always, always defiant but she knew where the line was. She just refused care, to just keep going, to keep voicing every strange thought to pop into her head with very little editing.

It was going to get her killed one day, more than one person had told her. Tonight could be that night.

"You aren't afraid of me at all," Eric mused, deep voice rumbling through his chest. His form started to lower slowly to the ground. "An unwise decision, Miss Stackhouse."

"I figured that out around the time you kidnapped me," Sookie told him wryly. It was a white-lie; she had realized _much_ sooner but turning into a church mouse went against her motto.

Eric's knees bumped into Sookie's upper thighs, making her twitch violently, panic ringing through her, and then a jolt went through them both as he landed. Sookie pushed off his chest, and landed with her feet on the floor.

Her heels sank into the grass as she stumbled away from him before catching herself, cocking her head to the side and studying him from a safer distance. Eric was gazing at her, an indescrible intent behind his eyes, blonde hair stark against the dark night...and the familiar back-drop of the Bon Temps cemetery.

Unwilling to take her eyes off him, Sookie slowly arched an eyebrow. "_You_ know _where_ I live. How worried should I be?"

Eric returned her arched brow, something almost amused in the gesture. Like a tiger slinking towards an unsuspecting animal in the long grass, he moved towards her. Goosebumps rose on Sookie's skin but she did not recoil.

"That depends." Eric lowered his head, staring down at her starkly with his intense blue eyes. "You're a telepath."

It was on the tip of Sookie's tongue to deny it, but after so long, she assumed he must have developed an impressive radar for bullshit. And he knew where she lived - he knew where her Gran was, and maybe her brother.

Sookie glanced down to the floor, half wondering if she would be the next Stackhouse to be buried in the grave yard, before meeting Eric's eyes with her usual defiant humor. "I would say pick a number but I'm incapable of reading vampires' minds, and I'm guessin' that joke would get my neck snapped, snicker-_crack_."

"Snicker-snap," Eric corrected her disturbingly.

Sookie stared at him blankly for a moment before closing her eyes, wishing she felt more horrified by that piece of information instead of simply tired. "I could have lived a happy life without ever knowing that - but thank you."

Eric chuckled darkly, a deep, masculine sound that Sookie was annoyed at herself for enjoying. "Don't be coy."

Sookie looked at him with clear eyes. His outline was blurred by the dark. He was handsome, beautiful, one of those unforgivable people who always looked hot as hell. Even in the dark surrounded by headstones. Satan in a fine sunday hat, as Lala and Tara would rightfully claim. What a _wonderful_ disguise his body was.

Still, she thought he would've looked so much _more_ in the sunlight. Less of a cruel, dark man. He might have even _been_ those things once.

"If I am, I don't mean to be," she said finally.

When Eric looked at her, the forceful lust in his eyes was still present, seemingly urged on by her quirky quips, but it was muted by the air of sheer power rolling off him. It was dangerous and highly intimidating, like he could fly into a murderous frenzy at the slightest provocation.

"You claim to be incapable of reading vampire minds," he stated in his rough yet strangely smooth voice. "I hope you have proof, Miss Stackhouse. I'm not prepared to take the word of a human so easily."

Most Supes had a simply irritating way of looking down on humans, but it was nothing compared to the rivalry between other Supes. Best that Eric kept thinking of her as a telepathic human, and nothing else.

"If I'd been reading your mind, I would've seen the Superman maneuver coming," she pointed out curtly, suppressing mild horror and anger at his violation of her personal space. "And I'd hardly have bothered drawin' attention to myself by asking questions if I could pick up on your thoughts."

Eric made a sound deep in his throat, hands clasping behind his back. "That's hardly conclusive proof," he remarked grimly, light blue eyes burning into her face, meeting her eyes. His blue eyes widened, as though trying to draw her will into him, molding her mind like wet clay.

"You have a smart mouth. That will get you in trouble some day," his voice was softer but still low and deep, fanning the flames low in her stomach until the lust was sparking through her, increasing with every word. "Not all vampires will be as tolerant as I. You will learn caution, you _will_ be more respectful when addressing me, and you are going to answer all of my questions truthfully."

"I have been," Sookie shot back, defensive irritation weaving into her voice. Eric's reaction was minimal, eyebrows raising slowly, eyes narrowing slightly, lips pursing light. Though her words were sassy, she was careful to keep her voice inoffensively calm. "If what I saw at Fangtasia tonight is what you see as respectful - "

"I know the difference between those fawning vermin and you, Miss Stackhouse," said Eric darkly, watching her with an expression that made her uncomfortable. It was curious, and certainly hungry for so many things, all belonging to her. "They are so easily glamoured, however, you seem oblivious to it."

Sookie stiffened, a flash of icy fear freezing her solid. Her mind stumbled before setting off in a frantic pace. Eric didn't seem particularly murderous, but she felt certain that his interest was no less deadly or intense than his rage. There was no hope of him passing her off as another dull human now.

Telepathy was one thing, but even the Weres were capable of being glamoured. It was unquestionably a Supe trait.

"That's the only difference you see?" Sookie said flippantly before the silence could continue, raising her eyebrows to show offense.

"I see many," remarked Eric, his eyes dropping to her figure, so tightly shown off. He circled her slowly, eyes eating away at her.

A shiver writhed up Sookie's spine. She should've been disgusted or terrified by his aggressive nature, but when she thought about him kicking that man away in Fangtasia without a single glance, and how he'd been looking at her all night...the difference was clear, and a slightly flattering in a weird _where-has-my-self-respect-gone_ way.

"What are you?" he bit out, sounding almost irritated at having to ask.

"That's the million dollar question, baby." Sookie caught sight of his expression and carried on. "I've known about the supernatural world for a while, but I've never heard of anyone like me before."

"Surprisingly, neither have I," Eric said musingly, a slight frown touching his handsome face at his lack of knowledge. "You are quite the mystery, Miss Stackhouse."

"What are you going to do about that?" she asked, watching him warily.

"I have no plans to hurt you," Eric stated, sweeping his eyes over her, a lewd smirk touching the corners of his mouth.

"Well, that's massively reassuring."

"Though that could change," Eric continued in a soft, dangerous voice. "In the future, I may call upon your services."

Pressing her lips together on a nervous joke, Sookie looked him straight in the eye. "What are you paying me?" Eric's eyebrow arched, and Sookie sighed, posture slumping sardonically. "Would you really trust me to tell the truth if there _wasn't_ something in it for me? I am a human, after all."

Proving he wasn't a total humorless dick - which made Sookie pretty sure she could deal with his less awesome personality traits, like being really fucking scary, because a sense of humor was _so_ rare - Eric acknowledged her light play on his words with a faintly amused smirk.

"We have established that you are anything but human in this cemetery, Miss Stackhouse, and anything but ordinary long before that."

Sookie narrowed her big, brown eyes at him suspiciously, a slight smirk toying at her lips. "Are you hittin' on me?"

Eric's smirk was far more impressive, containing all of the lewd implications in the world without making Sookie feel like a dumb blonde, hick waitress with _issues _like whoa.

"I will send a contract over in the morning. If it is not to your liking, contact me at Fangtasia, and we can re-work the contract." Eric floated off the ground, hair rising up slightly, managing to smirk suggestively down at her. Possibly because he had an even better view of her cleavage with his vamp eyes. "Goodnight, Miss Stackhouse."

"Not going to walk me home?" Sookie teased coyly, relaxed by the brief flash of humor from him, and that he really seemed not to have any plans to kill her then bury her with one of her relatives. "You're missing out on an opportunity for a goodnight kiss."

Abruptly, Eric was crowding her, mouth inches from hers, blue eyes burning dark and hungry. "Miss Stackhouse, it would never be a goodnight kiss."

The blonde telepath startled back from him. "Oh." Her contrary nature teamed up with her libido but, fortunately, her common sense pitched in.

Sookie darted forward, and pressed her lips to his cheek. His cheek was rough with pale stubble, like sandpaper under her lips, but under that texture, there was his skin. Unblemished, pale, cool skin that smelled faintly of the ocean.

It was a brief peck, and Sookie pulled back before he could make a move to change the nature of it. With big, startled brown eyes and rumpled hair from the flying, Sookie flashed his unreadable expression a supposedly careless gap-toothed grin.

"Goodbye, Eric," she said, coming off as more nervously polite than wryly amused. Her Gran would've been proud of that.

Turning on her heel, back itching with the frantic urge to keep him in her line of sight, least he sweep her up and fly off with her again, Sookie started back home.

* * *

><p>The next morning, when Sookie ventured downstairs in her night gown, it was to the comforting sound of Gran cooking breakfast while she talked on the phone. Usually, Sookie would've been pleased to hear her grandma talking so excitedly about anything but today, it was rattling.<p>

After last night, everything had a surrealistic quality to it. Not to mention how few hours of sleep Sookie had been able to grab.

"You've been quiet all morning, dear," Gran said after hanging up the phone.

"Yeah," Sookie muttered absently, forcing herself to sip a glass of orange. Gran was the only person who had never tried to change her, save for scolding her for being rude, and Sookie loved her devotedly for that. Too much to worry her.

"Oh, honey. I haven't seen you this distracted..." Sookie's eyes flickered up, a hard tension balling in her small form, and Gran looked at her sadly, an old, stubborn guilt in her eyes. "In a very long time."

What Gran could have said hung just as heavily in the air.

Sookie looked back down at the table before straightening up, leaning back in her chair with a smile, orange juice in hand. "I couldn't sleep."

"I didn't hear you come in last night." Gran must have seen a slight tell on Sookie's face before she sat down, a look of sincere worry creasing her face. "Oh, Sookie. Was it Mister Compton? Did he do something untoward?"

"Untoward?" Sookie repeated, words dragged heavily down by her disbelief at such a word. "Gran, I love you but, _untoward_?"

Gran's frown deepened. "You're avoiding the subject," she sighed. "Your grandfather used to do the same, always joking at the slightest twitch of discomfort." While Sookie absorbed this with a raised eyebrow, the older woman leaned forward. "Did he hurt you? Shall I cancel the meeting?"

"No, and no." Sookie started to slump in her chair before she remembered one of Gran's lectures about that, and she straightened up, shaking her head, ponytail swishing. "He was a total jerk, though. The man seems to be stuck in one of your 1800s bodice ripper romances, only problem is I have a _spine_, but don't cancel the meeting because of that. I know you're looking forward to it."

"Oh, I am," Gran confessed, a smile lighting her face. Suddenly, Gran frowned. "Sookie..."

"I didn't punch him," she said wearily, having expected the question. "I don't know why people always ask me that whenever I argue with someone. It sounds like I'm always beatin' my customers up!"

It was a testimony to her Gran's days as a mother and a grandmother that she easily changed the subject from Sookie's slight anger issues to Bill Compton.

"Why, why, why does everything think I'm interested in Bill?" Sookie asked, torn between genuine curiosity and annoyance. Pam was one thing because, from what Sookie had seen and heard at Fangtasia, any contact between a human and a vampire usually began with the letter F.

Thinking of Eric had kept Sookie from sleeping. A dozen thoughts had shot through her mind, all focused on her blonde kidnapper. It had no hope of ending well. Eric was the type of man who killed people for angering him, and _all_ Sookie did was anger people.

But it wasn't like she would be seeing him _all_ of the time. Surely, she could bite her tongue on her funniest retorts for a few hours to avoid a violent death? Unless he changed his mind and killed her tomorrow. Snicker-_crack_. Wouldn't she hate herself for delighting in his brief flash or humor, for kissing his cheek and _liking_ it then?

"Rumours always spring up whenever a man and a woman are close - "

"Huh?" Sookie said blankly, briefly confused before remembering. Bill Compton. Great. "We aren't close. I saved him, beat up drug dealers, and now he has this crush, like a gender-flipped version of, _okay_, a really old romance."

Except Sookie had zero interest in Bill. If anything, he creeped her out with the offering of blood and creepy friends and his staring habit and the whole _mine_ bullshit. Even physically, she felt no attraction. Sookie might have given up on dating but she knew when she liked someone. She was attracted to Eric, even though she damn well knew better than to start something with him.

"Well," Gran said finally, a tired weight under the acceptance in her words. "I wish you could find someone you liked." Sookie sipped her juice. Gran tilted her head a little, a flare in her eyes. "Sookie?"

"I think the eggs are burning," Sookie said conversationally.

Between the eggs and the phone ringing off the hook, Sookie managed to fend of her Gran's questions (in the process, learning that Eric hadn't gotten around to sending a contract over) before darting upstairs to pull on her Merlotte's unifrom, and leaving for work.

After reassuring Arlene and Sam that, no, she _still_ wasn't sleeping with Bill, and that _yes, _she was unharmed from her trip to Fangtasia last night. Which Sam had apparently told Arlene about, which meant that _everyone _in town knew.

"No more vampires?" Arlene inquired hopefully.

"No more vamp bars," Sookie said doubted Eric would be easy to shake, and she knew it would be better not to even try. "Hardly like I can ban vampires from Bon Temps," she added with a quirky smirk.

"Aw, sweetie," Arlene cooed, leaning over the bar to kiss Sookie on the cheek. For once, Arlene's thoughts were simply relieved. Sookie smiled back, faintly surprised by the glimpse of genuine affection from the redhead. "I know you ain't one of those fangbangers but I'm _so _glad to hear you'll be keepin' away from that vampire."

One of her customers drew Arlene away from Sookie, who turned her gaze to Sam, who smiled at her. It was a warm, friendly smile, though his blurred (and definitely supernatural) thoughts were circling around her Gran's meeting. He liked her as more than a friend, and he had for a while but he'd never acted on it.

"Chere - " Sam started, coming closer.

"Did you tell Arlene, the biggest gossip in Bon Temps, that I was goin' to a vampire bar?" Sookie asked curiously.

Sam sighed, briefly adverting his gaze, leaning his elbows on the bar. His eyes darted down to her chest before meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sook - "

"Uh-_huh_," Sookie said slowly, sardonically. She leaned her own elbows on the bar, putting her face level with Sam's, puffing out a slow breath. "You do, ah, realize that people - young women, funnily enough - who associate with vampires have a strange habit of being _horribly_ murdered in this town right about now?"

Sam drew back from her, eyes widening. Sookie gave him a wry smile, adding in the same vaguely serious tone of voice, "Also,_ someone_ needs to re-fill the ketchup, and I did it last time. Remind Arlene, would ya?"

Sookie shrugged casually, blowing him a random kiss before turning away from the bar, swinging her hips lightly to the music as she returned to her tables. By lunchtime, Arlene should have told everyone that she had gone off vampires. With her mouth, damage control was very much a learn or die thing.

Smirking at how accurate that had become, Sookie went over to serve Andy Bellefluer. As a child, Sookie had been fascinated by Andy and how different he'd been to the other teenagers she'd met. She could faintly remember his flustered bemusement with her nine-year-old self. It was odd how much their reactions had changed to each other.

"Detective Bellefluer," Sookie said brightly. "What can I get for you? A pound of my brother's flesh?"

Andy Bellefluer looked at her, frowning at her flippant comment. He thought of her as bratty and disrespectful but unlike most of Bon Temps, he'd never thought of her as mentally deficient. "From what I saw down at the station yesterday, you'd have a hard time detaching that flesh from Tara."

"_My_ Tara?" Sookie wondered lightly, tilting her head to the side. Guarding her reactions was a reflex, watering down her emotions.

"Yeah. She and your brother - they serious?" _I knew they were lying_, he thought smugly.

"My brother and Tara..." Sookie repeated slowly, as though having a realisation. Then she let her head roll back, rocking back on her heels. _Oh Tara_, her heart ached. "Of _course_, they wouldn't tell me."

That took the wind out Andy's sails. "What?" he bit out. "You're her best friend - "

"Andy, if _you_ slept with your sister's best friend, would you be bragging about it? Especially if you were anything like my brother? And your sister was anything like me?" Sookie pointed at his iced tea casually. "Re-fill?"

"Yeah," Andy grumbled.

Sookie took his cup, reaching out with her sixth sense for Tara, and walked through the back. Sam was standing in the hall, absently mixing a drink. He jerked in surprise when she put the cup down beside him.

"Iced Tea," she saird absently, barely remembering to add, "Please."

"Sookie - " Sam started, but the blonde shook her head; _not now_.

Tara was in the bathroom, adjusting her hair when Sookie walked in, closing the door firmly behind her. "Hey Sook," Tara greeted, a smile touching her face.

"You lied to Andy Bellefluer for my brother," Sookie said abruptly, staring at her. For the first time since Andy had opened his mouth, Sookie's emotions were written clearly across her face.

She was weak at the knees with relief for Jason, and worried for them both, but her heart hurt for Tara, her best friend who was in love with her self-centered brother.

Tara stiffened, dropping her arms, reflexes from living with her crazy, abusive mother. "Yeah," she spat out. "So what?"

"I - " Sookie took a deep breath, pushing off the door and folding Tara in her arms, pressing her face into her shoulder and breathing her in. "I love you unreasonably, you know?" she said with unconvincing nonchalance.

Tara was stiff for a moment, tense, like she so often was but rarely wasn't when it was just her and Sookie, before her arms came around Sookie's back. Her friend slumped into the blonde's smaller body wearily, heart-sick.

"I love you too, Sook," Tara muttered softly.

Sookie squeezed her friend tighter, her thoughts flickering strangely to kissing Eric Northman on the cheek. Curious.

* * *

><p><strong>Uh. Ah. I'm...I'm sorry? For whatever I did to Eric, and okay, I have no apologizes for what I did to Sookie. I like her better this way.<strong>

**Feel free to look at my stories that suck less, like Crowned or Bullshit Ban.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**I believe in reviews! I do! I do!**

**EDITED: Because it sucked. **

* * *

><p>The bar crowd had thinned considerably by four o'clock. Most people were preparing for the DGD meeting. Everyone had strong feelings about the meeting, one way or another. Lafayette came out from the kitchens and struck a conversation with Tara. In a calmer state of mind, Sookie's thoughts turned to Bill.<p>

Her feelings were mixed on him. He had done some good to her, and he had done some bad. Her instincts were against him, but she had never been someone who made decisions on the fly. She would give him a chance to explain the possessive bullshit.

One choice down, another remaining. Eric. What was she going to do about him? Above all else, the small things she had liked about him, he was one scary SOB. A powerful vampire shrieff who knew about her sixth sense. No way that could end rosy.

But Eric had taken her home last night, and Sookie hadn't missed the moonlight bouncing off a head of bright blonde hair from the tree tops as she walked home. He had watched her. At least, he seemed to vaule her as an asset - and he undoubtably vauled her _assets_.

"You doin' okay, Sookie?" Rene asked, concern in his thick accent after she'd taken his order of a pitcher of beer. He was waiting on Hoyt and Jason.

"Peachy," Sookie answered, flashing him a smile. She had always gotten on well with Jason's friends, especially Hoyt and Rene. She hadn't forgotten his help with the leering fratboys. "You and Arlene comin' to the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah. Kids ain't stayin' home for nothing, not after hearin' bout your vampire."

"_My_ vampire?" Sookie repeated, arching her eyebrows, leaning back on her heels a little. "Yeesh, is there something in the water?" Lord, she hoped she was immune to it.

Rene looked intrigued but before he could ask any questions, Lafayette called to her from behind the bar, "Come get your fine ass over here, hookah!" He snapped a bar towel like a whip in her direction.

Snickering, Sookie grinned widely over her shoulder at her two friends. "Sorry, Rene, looks like we might have to finish this conversation later." Rene waved her off playfully, and Sookie walked over to the bar, bowing her head in mock subordinance. "Queen Lala, you hollered?"

"We were just doin' some _reminiscin'_ - " Lafayette told her, causing the blonde's eyes to widen in alarm.

"Oh Lord," Sookie groaned, looking between them, eyebrows arching. "History will repeat itself over my_ bloated_ corpse."

"Oh, no, honey child," Lafayette cooed with a certain flourish, grinning. "Ain't about nothing bad."

Tara snorted. "Most of the shit we did was bad for me and Sook."

Sookie winced at the memories. Between Lafayette, Tara and her, trauma was guaranteed. "Do you remember when we woke up in a nudist colony?"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Tara exclaimed, flinching. Sookie laughed wickedly at her friend's horrified expression. "How the hell could I ever forget?"

Closing his eyes, Lafayette made an obscene sound of enjoyment at the memories. "_Mmm mmm_! Damn you both for callin' my mama."

The memory of Lafayette's outraged face when his mama and her Gran showed up to take them home made Sookie double over with hysterical laughter, gripping the bar to keep herself upright. Tara laughed with her. None of them paid any mind to the disdainful looks they attracted.

"Crazy motherfuckers," Lafayette declared, amusement rolling out in his smooth voice. He poured himself a shot of whiskey. "That was a damn good night. Sook, you should come partyin' with Lala sometime."

"What?" Tara snapped, looking at her cousin. "I ain't fun enough for you?"

"Too damn right. You need Sook to mellow you the fuck out." Lafayette tossed back his shot, pouring three more. Tara drank hers without hesitation, but Sookie only tossed hers back when Lala shoved it into her hand.

"I'm crazy mellow," Sookie grinned proudly, feeling the whiskey burning down her throat. Her eyes glowed with mirth.

"You is," Lafayette agreed, gesturing flamboyantly with his hand, looking her lewdly up and down. "You in, girlfriend? Come swingin' with me and Tara?"

"All the way, baby." Sookie flashed him a naughty grin to match her purred response.

Tara snorted, shaking her head with a smile. "We're going to end up in another damn nudist colony." Tara went to pour herself another shot and stopped abrupty, looking back at Sookie. "Girl, you never did tell us why you broke up with JB."

Sookie stopped smiling, automatically adverting her eyes. The three of them had gotten drunk in mourning of her relationship with JB that night. She and Tara had been underage but Lafayette encouraged fun in any form.

"Age differences," she lied unblinkingly. They had started dating when she was fourteen and he was eighteen. "We wanted different things."

"Like_ hell_ you did," Tara scoffed. "He was crazy about you. Damn fool is _still _mooning over you. If you shot him one look, he'd be all over you before you could blink."

"There was bets about you and that fine man having a bunch of _super_ fine babies," Lafayette interjected, who had been manning the betting pool.

For once, the telepath found herself cursing how well her friends knew her. She and JB had been nuts over each other, like stupidly nuts. Like gushing over baby names nuts. But in the end, he was an eighteen-year-old boy, and she hadn't be able to think about sex without wanting to retreat somewhere quiet and safe.

JB had been understanding, never pushing her past her comfort zone, and they had been good friends with second base but Sookie hadn't been able to shake the feeling of being unfair to him. Thus, she'd broken up with him and used him as an excuse to avoid dating - not that Lala paid much mind. Her friend still insisted on setting her up on dates.

"From what I know, they came damn close," Tara told her cousin, who raised his eyebrows in interest.

"Just FYI, I hate you all," Sookie informed them with a quirky twirl of her finger in a circular motion. Lafayette and Tara stared at her until she crumbled with an exasperated sigh. "He was a _teenage_ boy. He shouldn't have to wait for his girlfriend to get over herself."

Lafayette and Tara exchanged a look of disbelief but they both knew better then to argue with her.

"So out with it," Tara said, leaning into the bar with one hip and placing a hand on the other hip. "Why didn't you and JB ever cross the finale hurdle?"

Knowing Tara would refuse to do anything for her until she answered honestly, the blonde leaned over the bar, grabbing an empty pitcher and started filling it up. Someone wolf whistled, causing Tara to shoot a truly fearsome look over Sookie's shoulder, and she flipped the offender off herself without looking back.

"Uh, because my brother has a _gun_?" Sookie retorted as though that should be blindingly obvious, looking up at Tara and Lafayette casually.

When the pitcher was full, she straightened up and swayed her hips away from her friends. Sookie dropped the pitcher off at Rene's table, twisting around without a falter in her walk to curtsy mockingly back at her friends, lifting her small white apron.

Sookie returned Tara's rude gesture with an elaborately blown kiss, unable to help a smile at the sound of Lafayette's laughter.

* * *

><p>Sookie got off work at Merlotte's at four. By that time, her lack of sleep was wearing her down. Making Gran promise to wake her up for six, Sookie took a quick shower and crawled into bed to take a nap before her hair had even dried.<p>

Too soon, Sookie woke up. Her eyes flew open to the dark. Her hair was pressing against her face in wickedly curly tangles. Her white silk nightgown had been pushed up to her belly button in her sleep, hand low on her stomach.

A series of muddled memories of her dream flashed through her mind - Eric Northman pushing her down to the bed, mouth firm on her bare skin, fangs raking down her stomach...

Her body_ burned_ with pleasure at the fantasy, and Sookie sighed at the hot throb between her thighs. Closing her eyes, she summoned up the memory of how Eric's cheek felt under her lips, hand sliding down between her legs.

And then with a slam, she realized why she had woken up.

An image had passed through Gran's head, an image of Eric smirking, head ducked to meet her gaze, utterly stunning as usual as he stood on her porch. Horror hit Sookie like a bucket of ice water. She lunged off the bed, snagging her silk white dressing gown, yanking it on, roughly tying it closed as she flew down the hallway.

"Would you mind if I wait for Sookie inside?" she heard Eric ask in his dark, flowing voice.

"Of course not, come - " her Gran was saying just as Sookie bolted down the stairs, blonde hair wildly askew, eyes huge and frantic, robe tied loosely around her curvy waist.

Eric stared at her starkly over her Gran's shoulder, pale face glowing attractively in the porch light, blue eyes darkening with animal lust at the sight of her - wearing so little or looking so bedraggled? Sookie had been too exhausted to bother with a bra or panties before falling asleep.

Not for the first time, Sookie wondered how good his eyes were.

"Sookie!" Gran gasped, looking appalled at her state of dress. Or it might have been her abrupt appearence.

"Sookie," Eric echoed in an entirely different tone, dark and sleek. He wore a pair of dark jeans that clung to his long, long legs, and a black leather jacket that pulled over his broad shoulders, covering a dark t-shirt. His eyes burned relentlessly into her from across the room. Her terror fading fast, Sookie felt a rekindling of the fire in her lower gut at his stare.

"Gran," Sookie said cheerfully, forcing her eyes to stick to her Gran. She started to climb down the stairs, feeling a decidedly lustful weakness in her legs. "Why don't you finish gettin' ready for your meeting?"

There was an undercurrent of steel in her voice, an inflexibility, that made her Gran look at her searchingly. Smirking, Sookie ruffled her hair, eyes deliberately unconcerned. The sight of Eric so close to Gran alarmed her, but she wasn't about to let him know that.

"Well," Gran said, looking between them uncertainly, clearly picking up the tension in the air - closer to sexual than awkward. "If you're sure?"

Sookie's foot hit the hallway floor, her smirk widened into a perky grin. "I'm sure."

Before her Gran could respond, Sookie made several light steps forward, putting herself between her Gran and Eric. She pressed on her Gran's shoulders and gave her a light push towards the stairs, offering a cheerful wave and a big, mirthful grin.

Gran hesitated for a moment before climbing the stairs, and Sookie turned to Eric, grin turning back into a smirk. She moved forward, and he shifted an inch in response, _just_ enough so that she could slid past him - her scantily clad body brushed intimately against his, silk-covered breasts sliding against his hard muscular chest.

Lord. Her heart stuttered nervously, a shock of white-hot heat jolted down between her legs, and her smirk slipped. His smirk stretched gloriously across his handsome face, arrogant and knowing, but with a dark heat burning in his eyes.

"Not going to invite me in?" Eric said lowly, words brushing over her face. His tone was sex, pure sex.

Sookie clung to her composure by calmly closing the door and stepping back, smiling widely as she tilted her head to the side. Something hot tightened in her lower stomach, urged on by a single look into his blazing eyes.

"Not tonight," she said.

Eric made a humming sound with the edge of a growl, raising his eyebrows down at her. "I thought Southern women were renowned for their manners."

"And I thought Viking's were supposed to have beards."

Eric looked down at her, and she looked unflinchingly back up at him. He dipped his head closer to hers, until they were a scant few inches apart, enough for him to feel the heat of her body through the flimsy silk she wore. His intense blue eyes flickered down to the clumsy knot holding the silky robe tied.

For a moment, in the space of one breath, she thought he would reach for her, and that maybe she wouldn't stop him _right away_, but Eric restrained himself to an intense look that burned ruthlessly through her, and a wry twitch of his lips. His blonde hair hung around his face, adding to his general aura of sexuality and power. He made to speak but in the progress of drawing a breath, something changed. His fangs snapped down.

Sookie's spiked furiously, dazzling her with its intensity. And Eric stared at her with dark eyes, blue wrapped around very dilated pupils, blatantly aroused by whatever he smelled and everything he saw.

"Do I smell different than other people?" Sookie asked curiously, unwilling swayed by the look on his face. Her libido had always been easy to tame before, but Eric seemed to flood her body with dizzying lust and wild hormones. Asshole.

"Exceptionally better," Eric answered starkly. He breathed her in without shame, and Sookie felt another surge of heat between her legs. She was very wet for a man who she barely knew. Breakthrough much? "Especially when you're aroused."

"Well, what about when I'm pissed off?"

"I enjoy the view," Eric answered smoothly, a fanged, charmingly cocky grin flashing across his face. When push came to shove, Sookie knew he was no more of a sweetie that an enraged lion; her thoughts showed on her face. "Denying your attraction to me, Miss Stackhouse?" a single eyebrow arched, a masterful gestured she shared. "I expected you to be above such delusions. How disappointing."

His expression crawled under her skin, filling the small blonde with a strong urge to prove him wrong. It was a deliberate taunt, she knew. His eyes were that of a deadly predator baiting a trap, testing her intelligence as much as her courage. Eric wanted her to meet his expectations, to prove her _worth_ though she was guessing he rarely gave others - especially humans - the chance.

As always, Sookie rose to the challenge with flirtation in her eyes, a seductive quirk to her smile.

"Eric," she said huskily, almost a moan. She felt powerful at the dark, burning want in his gaze. Lord, his eyes promised such dark, delicious things. "I'm honest enough to admit to myself that I would love to push you back down on my porch swing and ride you until the house is falling down around us, and the only word that means a damn thing to you is my name."

Blue eyes, darker and more powerful than all the sin in the world, flared with an incinerating heat and a wildly aggressive combativeness to match her own. Only Sookie could feel an edge of glee under the scorching lust engulfing her. "Such promises."

"But it won't ever happen." Sookie pressed her lips together to stop her from licking them, and did not look down to see if he was hard. She was betting he was as hard as she was wet - to the point it was almost uncomfortable. "I kind of have this _problem_ that stops me from sleeping with every hot guy I see - I think it's called self-respect."

Eric was worryingly still though his blue eyes rolled over her form with such fierce intensity that Sookie could almost feel his hands all over her skin, dipping between her thighs with the same smooth confidence behind his every action. In the end, he smirked, a growl rumbling in his chest, lifting his head to give her breathing space. "No one likes a tease, _Sookie_."

Sookie's heart raced at the sound of her name rolling off Eric's tongue but she didn't miss a beat. "You do."

"What gives you that idea?"

"Well, judging by how my pulse is still beating, I'm guessin' you ain't too broken up by the lack of meekly bending to your will on my part."

"True," said Eric in his low, gritty voice. "I would much prefer you to bend over a table or my desk or - "

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Sookie said, flashing him a genuine grin. There was something about Eric that kept his words and actions from being off-puttingly crass or overly threatening. Anyone else would have been punched or chewed out. "But I'm not going to blush myself into a _coma_ or run screaming from your nasty talk."

Eric purred, a deep, obscene sound that she felt in her bones more than heard. It was animal, and her animal side wanted to respond in kind, as an acceptance and as a challenge. "I wish you would run; I could make your screams extremely...pleasurable."

Sookie enjoyed their banter. With her Gran out of the way, with a small measure of certainty that he _wouldn't_ be killing her, she was able to enjoy the quick back-and-forth and the desire he inspired but she had a meeting to attend. Besides her Gran had _not_ approved of her attire for a good reason.

"I wish you'd tell me why you were here," Sookie replied, railing the conversation. She rocked back on her heels, and looked up at him, brown eyes twinkling with daring. She batted her eyelashes in an over-the-top manner. "Did ya miss me?"

Eric looked - thankfully - amused by her idle question, _seeming_ more interested in the things moving did to her skimpy clothing. "I believe I own you a contract." He reached into his black leather jacket and pulled out a plain brown envelope, passing it over to her.

Sookie took it gingerly, feeling wary of binding herself to Eric in _any_ way. "I'll want to look it over before screwing myself over indefinitely."

"Of course," Eric said agreeably. His stance was always guarded, tense and prepared for a fight, but she detected a slight change. The energy pouring off him was less sexual and more business-like. She felt herself relaxing slightly. "I came to your home in order to review the contract with you, though if you would rather do something else..." his voice trailed off suggestively.

"If we went over the contract tonight, you would probably end up teaching my Gran about the finer points of medieval torture technique," Sookie remarked, not noticing Eric's minimal reaction at words. "Best I get back to you on this one."

"You will find my personal number in the envelope," Eric told her, dipping his head. The space between them disappeared rapidly, and his lips were on her cheek, soft and plump. Sookie stiffened, feeling a swell of shock and panic in her stomach at the contact, and then Eric was leaning away, a smirk on his lips. "Enjoy your evening, Miss Stackhouse."

Eric launched himself up into the sky, a dark blurr to her eyes. After he was gone, Sookie exhaled, silencing the dozens frantic thoughts buzzing in her head, torn between alarm and amused pleasure. "Well!" she said cheerfully to herself, a hand on her hip, tilting her head back to the sky. "Nice to know I'm not the only crazy pain in the ass in the world."

Time for a cold shower. Hopefully she could talk herself out of writing Eric's 'personal number' out on the bathroom wall in Merlotte's as revenge for screwing with her with his little goodbye. Or better yet - Fangtasia's.

Unable to help herself, Sookie laughed wickedly at the thought.

* * *

><p>Sookie walked up to her Gran in a pretty colourful sundress and coy white sandles, hair straightened. Her make-up was light and tasteful. Her pale pink lipstick left no mark as she kissed her Gran's cheek. "Excited?"<p>

"Oh, yes," Gran said, a smile lighting up her face. "We're all very excited to hear Mister Compton speak."

"Really?" Sookie said, feigning surprised. "Because what with fifty percent of our town being unashamed bashers of, well, pretty much everything and all those vaguely creepy messages of moral outrage on the answering machine..."

Gran glanced at her, a resigned set to her mouth. "These are good folk," she said firmly. "They will come around."

"With pitchforks, maybe."

"Sookie," Gran chided sharply. Sookie shook her head in disbelief and started to laugh. Her Gran was as sweet as sugar, but capable of being just as strange as Sookie herself.

"When I accidentally joined that nudist colony, you were fine with it - in fact you encouraged me to explore alternate lifestyles, if that painfully awkward conversation wasn't all one big stress induced hallucination - but my sarcasm offends you?"

Gran looked at her, perfectly prim - except for the wicked humor in her eyes. "There are certain subjects you do not speak so lightly about, young lady. Besides, I suspect your brother scolded you quite well enough."

Sookie felt the hot tangle of thoughts behind her, a split second warning before a gruff voice spoke up from behind her, "How do you accidentally join a nudist colony?"

Happiness swelled inside of Sookie, and she turned around to face Tray Dawson with a glowing grin on her face. Dawson was a mere inch shorter than Eric with a head of wild dark hair, serious brown eyes and a tanned, slightly wrinkled face set sternly. He was older than Sookie by nearly a decade. He had a quick, dry wit which complimented Sookie's quirky humor quite well.

"A great fake ID and lots of alcohol," she said brightly.

"Now that I did not approve of," Gran said sternly.

"Tray Dawson," the Were introduced himself, taking her Gran's small hand in his huge one. "If you're the women who raised Sookie, you have my condolences."

Her Gran laughed, amusement ringing out in her voice. "Adele Stackhouse. I've heard much about you, Mister Dawson."

Seeing that her Gran was distracted, Sookie slipped away from the two of them, inwardly making a mental note to catch Dawson later. He lived in Shreveport. What was he doing in Bon Temps? And what was his impression of Eric? She needed a second opinion. Fast.

Currently, she was hunting another vampire. Sookie vanished through a door that lead to the kitchen which was far cooler than the rest of the church. Bill rose quickly from the table as she entered the room, looking at her intently. "Sookie, are you well? I called upon you this evening but your grandmother informed me you were sleeping."

"I needed some quality time with the Sandman after last night," Sookie explained, diving ruthlessly into the conversation, closing the door behind her. Her necklace was silver, just in case.

Bill scowled, making a swift movement towards her. "Did Eric harm you? By the time I was able to return to Bon Temps, I was forced to seek shelter from the sun."

His choice of wording interested Sookie. "Excuse me?"

"I believe Eric ordered Pam to prevent me from coming to your rescue."

"You got beaten up by Pam?" Sookie laughed. Her ego-bruising was unintentional. If she was in his place, she would have been too focused on the funny side to be embarrassed. In fact, she had tried to avoid hurting his feelings by not mocking the idea of _him_ rescuing _her_ from _Eric_.

Bill drew himself up, looking indignant at Sookie's unintentional slight. "Eric has given Pam extensive training - "

"And Pam is kind of terrifying," Sookie admitted, cutting him some slack. She tried to shove aside her mirth but a few stray giggles escaped her mouth as she pictured how one-sided a fight between Pam and Bill would be. A total smack-down she expected. "I mean that corset - wow. I know she doesn't need to breath, but _wow_."

"Sookie - "

"You _have_ to respect the kind of woman who can walk in those high heels."

"Sookie - "

"I know I couldn't, but I'm not really a high heel girl. Did you know Merlotte's originally had high heels as part of the uniform? Sam had to change it because I kept accidentally maiming the customers."

Bill looked like he was about to mispronounce her name again but then her plan to bore him into submission seemed to work. He sighed, resigned. "You often wear high heels."

"Practice, my darling. Practice." Sookie took lead of the conversation, smirking slightly at Bill's long-suffering expression. Shaking her head, the telepath abruptly sobered up. "I wanted to ask you something about last night."

Bill narrowed his eyes at her. "You are angry I claimed you to be mine."

"I prefer the term 'formerly enraged'."

"I was trying to protect you," Bill said immediately, accent drenched in a condescending element that reminded Sookie of Andy Bellefluer at his worst. It rubbed her the wrong way. "If you had simply agreed to my claim, Eric would not have touched you."

Sookie's temper flared at his wording and his paternal tone of voice. "Uh-huh," she said sarcastically. "I'm guessing it never occurred to you to - oh, I don't know - warn me that I might have to pretend to be a roll over and play brain-dead in order not to get high-jacked?"

Bill jerked at her wording. "I was _tryin'_ to protect you!"

"Not telling me things until its too late isn't protecting me," she pointed out in a calm tone. She was capable of being reasonable. "I'm thankful that you tried, but I am _not_ yours and you don't get to cherry-pick what you tell me if doing so could end badly for me."

Reacting too fast to have truly thought about her words, Bill made to speak again before stopping. "The meeting will be starting soon."

Sookie was irritated at the timing but she left the kitchen with a meaningful look. They would be continuing their conversation later. For now, Sookie caught Tray Dawson's eye from where he stood talking to Sam (his brain patterns were slightly different from a Were's) and nodded to where Tara was seated. It was a lot less smooth than Eric's method of summoning people, but it worked.

"Is Lafayette working or just avoiding the church?" Sookie wanted to know, dropping into the seat beside Tara, who snorted.

"Who knows what that bitch is doing."

"Or who," Sookie added, provoking a more genuine laugh from her friend.

Because of his sexual nature, Lafayette wasn't all too welcome in church anymore. It was one of the many reasons Sookie tended to avoid churches. Lafayette was one of the best people she knew, why should she care for people who thought so badly of him?

Dawson sank down in the chair beside Sookie, shooting her a meaningful look. "You've got some real interesting friends."

Between Bill, Sam, Eric and Dawson himself, Sookie could hardly disagree. After introducing Tara and Dawson, Jason dropped into the chair on Tara's other side. He was wide-eyed and his tanned skin was glistening with sweat. Sookie frowned at him in genuine concern, forcing herself not to dip into his head for answers.

"Hey, Tara," Jason said breathlessly, a dorky grin on his face. It was a grin Sookie had often seen on Tara's face whenever she looked at her brother. It was not an expression that belonged on Jason Stackhouse's face.

Without hesitation, Sookie reached over Tara to check Jason's forehead with the back of her palm. His skin was hot and damp with sweat. Her concern deepened into worry. "Are you feelin' okay, Jase?"

"Yeah," Jason said with that odd grin. "I feel great."

Forcing Tara to lean back in her chair ("This shit is unreal," she muttered,) Sookie leaned to the side and checked her brother's pulse. It was unnaturally fast. "You don't look so hot," Sookie said with worry leaking into her voice, causing Tara and Dawson to stare at her in surprise.

Jason stared at her with wide perturbed eyes. "I'm always hot," he muttered, slapping her hand away.

Sookie slapped his hand lightly in return, making him pout, and felt his forehead again. Jason tried to slap her hand away again but he missed and slapped himself. A laugh tore out of Sookie's throat, and Jason shifted away from her, whining, "Tara, make her stop."

"Are you high?" Sookie asked mockingly, unable to stop herself from laughing a little harder at the tone of voice she hadn't heard since their childhood. Beside her, Dawson inhaled deeply and suddenly stiffened. Tara looked at Jason closely.

Sookie tried not to pay their reactions too much mind, but she felt the suspicion being tucked away in the corner of her mind. There was a politely cleared throat - Gran, not approving of what she saw - and then Bill came out from the kitchen to begin the meeting, forcing Sookie to tear her questioning gaze away from Jason.

* * *

><p><strong>Christ. Why is writing S1!Eric so much harder than S2!Eric? And where did the nudist colony jokes come form? <strong>

**Vote: Should I update Bullshit Ban or Circular Reasoning next?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>In the rush of movement when Bill's emotional speech ended, Dawson managed to slip under Sookie's radar. He was a sly one, and he knew how her gift worked. She couldn't search him out with her telepathy in such a crowded area. It would put a damper on Gran's evening if she suddenly passed out from a gushing nosebleed - and she liked her dress better <em>without<em> blood stains.

Looking around the small church for a familiar mop of wild brown hair, Sookie ran through a list of everything she'd said to Dawson. Because of Gran, she had acted less seethingly sarcastic to him than she ever had before. During Bill's speech, Sookie had been too busy puzzling over Jason's behaviour and feeling a grudging sympathy for the dark-haired vampire to be snide.

Once more, Sookie scanned the crowd. Arlene was standing with her kids, talking to Rene, tossing nervous looks over to Bill. Cody caught sight of her and waved happily. Sookie winked and blew him a kiss, earning a sunny beam. In a reversal of the natural order of things; Tara was talking to Sam while Jason looked at her longingly. Her Gran was standing with Bill. As she watched, Terry embraced him like a brother - a brother in arms.

A dozen voices washed over Sookie but her shields were holding strong. A sense of disquiet creeped up on her. Her instincts prickled insistantly, growing edgier with each moment she stood alone, crowd watching. There was something in the air, dark and brooding, like iron on her tongue. It tasted like blood, a sickly warning.

"Maudlin," she told herself, mussing her hair absently. Deciding to track Dawson down tomorrow, Sookie pushed off the wall she had been leaning against and weaved gracefully through the crowd towards Bill and her Gran.

"Howdy."

"Oh, Sookie," Gran exclaimed, smiling at her warmly, lovingly. Her Southern accent was strong but held a note of class to it. "Wasn't Mister Compton's speech lovely?"

"It was." The tone of genuine sincerity in her voice took Bill by surprise. Sookie was tempted to follow the comment up with a sarcastic jab, but she kept herself in check. It couldn't have been easy for Bill to recount those awful memories in front of people who resembled salivating jackals on the best of days. She felt grateful that he had done so as a favour to her.

"I'm glad," Bill began, staring at her intently, head bowed slightly like an old fashioned gentleman, "That you enjoyed - "

"Sookie," Sam said abruptly, appearing at her side. His eyes were flinty, his jaw tight, body language stiff but not violent. His hazy mind was frantic with fear and protective fury, boring into her senses like a drill. "I need to talk to you."

Dimly aware of her Gran's disapproving expression at his forceful tone, Sookie looked at him for a long moment before her eyes flickered back to her Gran. She kissed her on the cheek, bright grin returning as she backed away, dipping her knees in a playful curtsy, "The boss calls."

Her elbow bumped into Sam's arm, the surprise caused her smile to falter, but it was enough warning to stall her panicked instincts from reacting when Sam clamped a hand around her arm and started herding her through the crowd.

Not feeling particularly concerned, Sookie matched his pace easily. Her unconcerned, if amused, expression and their level paces diverted attention away from their forms, preventing mouths from running with scandal.

"You really want that sexual harrassment lawsuit, huh?" Sookie asked, quirking an eyebrow. Her good humor bounced off Sam's tense expression, not denting his mood even slightly. "I'm sensing you have a problem with me."

"You're damn right I have a problem," Sam hissed.

Sookie patted his hand soothingly, adopting a soft expression. "It's good you can admit these things."

"What? Damnit, Sookie." Sam opened the door to the kitchen and pulled her into the small room, closing the door behind him. "Be serious for once in your fucking life!"

"I prefer to fuck life, than to be fucked by life," Sookie remarked in an overly zen voice. She watched as Sam paced passed in front of her, figure blurred by the low light, though his tension clung to every inch of him.

"You've always been so reckless!" Sam exclaimed, fear and anger boiling through his words. "Always mouthing off to whoever looked at you twice, always saying whatever the hell pops into your head, always pushing at people until they snap - like it's a game, like you're invincible."

"Well, what am I _supposed_ to do?" she spat, riffled up, feeling the faint sting of hurt that even _Sam_ thought she should stop being herself. "Just lay back and take it like a good little woman? Like what a bunch of dumb rednecks think a good Southern woman should be like? Meek and weaker than kitten? I'd _rather_ have my ass kicked."

"No!" Sam shouted, whirling around to face her. His eyes blazed. "Goddamnit, Sookie - it doesn't have to be like that, one way or the other! You can be yourself without pissing off all of Bon Temps! You can be kind without putting yourself in the firing line!" Sam's anger was cooled by fear, and his voice softened, pained and grave. "What the hell are you thinkin', Sookie? Are you even thinking at all? Saving Bill from a bunch of drainers is one thing, but going to a vampire bar - being friendly with a damned Were - are you trying to get yourself killed?"

A bright spark of realization spread through Sookie's body, and her relaxed posture straightened up, expression becoming interested. Usually Sam was very guarded about what he said but today, he had slipped. It was the first time he had let on about his supernatural nature.

"Well, that crosses a Were of some kind off the list," said Sookie casually.

Sam was taken aback by her comment, and his face screwed up with confusion. "What?"

"I know you aren't human." Sookie took a step closer to Sam as his face went slack in panic. Her heart softened at the terror appearing in his eyes. She liked him as a friend, and he wasn't a bad boss, just a little too interested in her. "It's okay." She ducked her head to look at him from under her hair, arching her eyebrows sardonically. "_I_ can hardly throw stones, now, can I?"

Sam swallowed, expression still bleached with fear, but the tension reluctantly eased a little at her gentle expression. "What - what are you talking about?"

Sookie pointed at her temple, a shade of her usual smirk returning to her mouth. "You ain't like regular folk up here, and you could tell what Dawson was when most people never think beyond vampires - never think about what else could be out there. And you were always acceptin' of my little problem. What are you?"

Sam stared at her, astonishment replacing the panic on his face. "I'm - I'm a shapeshifter."

"Shapeshifter," Sookie repeated, narrowing her eyes with thought. Dawson hadn't told her much about shifters. Then her expression smoothed out. "Not like a skin walker, you can only change into animals - and don't you need a template or something?"

Still shocked, Sam nodded dumbly.

"For all animals?" Sookie leaned back against the table, bracing herself with her hands, crossing one tanned leg over the other. She felt satisfied with her discovery, and there was something warming about Sam's expression, the dawning hope and happiness.

"Birds are the hardest. I'm good with dogs - people like dogs. I - you aren't - " Sam broke off, staring at her like Bill had while she rescued him from the drainers. Or how he and Bill had looked at her while she pinned Mac Rattary to her car. Sookie was starting to get real fond of that look.

"What, shrieking in outrage?" Sookie smiled at him. "Since we _haven't_ shared a sacred daisy chain of honesty, I think I can get over you having a secret like everybody else in the world. _Including_ me."

Sam moved closer until he was standing directly in front of her, making her skin prickle. "Most people wouldn't just shrug off their boss turning out to be a shapeshifter."

"Hi," Sookie said sarcastically, gesturing pointedly at herself.

"Still, are you - are you sure you're okay with this?"

Sookie studied his face with her dark eyes, reading his laugh lines and frown lines and his solid, dependable eyes. Sam looked down at her, misunderstanding her expressive eyebrows and her soft mouth and the fierce fire that burned in her eyes. He cupped her face, and kissed her.

With a clinical detachment, Sookie noticed how soft his lips were, how gentle his kiss was, and how he _didn't_ have dog breath. There was no spark, no fire, no bright sudden flare of heat. It was just a mouth against hers.

Sookie leaned back, breaking the contact. Sam hovered close to her, and then his hand dropped from her face.

"Sam," Sookie said, mentally running through some believable rejections she hadn't used so far. "I'm about _ten_ different kinds of crazy all at once."

"I don't care about your mind reading, Sookie. I know you can't help that."

"Sweet," Sookie commended, awkwardly sliding across the table and getting to her feet. "And mostly true. But not the issue."

"Sookie, if you aren't interested in me than just say so," Sam said heatedly.

"I'm not interested in you," Sookie said automatically. She flinched in horror at herself, grimacing in sincere apology at Sam's hurt expression. "Oh, shoot - I didn't mean - well, I did but I didn't mean to - I'm not interested in _anyone._" Remorseful, she hesitated a moment, trying to think of a way to make things better. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I'll leave - before I manage to kill a puppy."

"Wait!" Sam called as she turned and made a move towards the door. Reluctantly, she twirled around, giving him an almost pained look of curiosity. "I know you can take care of yourself - "

"And any stray drug dealers hanging around your bar?" Sookie joked.

Sam knew enough about her to ignore her undertone comments. He stared at her with a vehement glow in his eyes. "But Werewolves are dangerous and vicious creatures, and vampires ain't no different. They're both a whole lot stronger than you, Sookie. If - "

Sookie stiffened, spine straightening, trying to ignore her anger. "I've known Tray Dawson since I was fourteen, Sam. If you're gonna bad mouth him, you better have some damn good proof. Maybe you're right about vampires, I'm guessin' you've met more than I have, but I won't just group them all together."

Sam held his hands up defensively. "I wasn't tryin' to upset you, Chere."

"Because calling my friend a dangerous, vicious creature could have any other effect." Sookie nodded sagely. Sam looked away with a sigh. She knew his intentions were protective but his lack of trust in her judgement stung. Worse of all, he could be right about her. "I trust Dawson - "

"But not Bill?" Sam interjected in an attempt to catch her off guard.

It didn't work.

"But I know," Sookie continued, her voice darkening, "that human beings aren't lilly white and daisy fresh, either. People can be just as ugly and nasty and vicious. They just aren't as good at it. And I think you know that too."

Sam looked up sharply as Sookie walked out of the kitchen, the truth of her words ringing grimly in the air.

* * *

><p>Sookie slipped out of the church and walked out into the parking lot. Dozens of thoughts swirled around her head, like wasps. She was incapable of holding a grudge against Sam. Being angry was too draining for her. Why would she choose petty anger over laughter?<p>

Her heels tapped lightly against the concrete side walk, a breeze brushed across her face, and she looked up. Her heels stopped as she halted, eyes widening, eyebrows moving upwards. "Are you fucking kiddin' me?" she said incredulously.

There was a hooker red corvette in the parking lot. Eric Northman was leaning against the car door, blonde hair glowing in the moonlight, eyes fixed on her. He was - surprise, surprise - smirking like an arrogant jerk. He lifted his hand and beckoned her to him with a movement of his long fingers, exactly as he had done last night.

"You need to stop doing that," Sookie commented, not bothering to raise her voice as she strolled - slowly - over to him. "One of these days, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from responding in the way I'd like to, and then you'll have to kill me."

Eric arched a single eyebrow, increasing his aura of menace and power. "So you are capable of caution." He slid his eyes down her form as she approached, dress swinging lightly around her knees, drawing attention to her tanned skin. "You look lovely, though I do have a preference for your earlier attire..."

"Thank you," she said politely, only half out of the urge to surprise him, absently smoothing down her dress. "So do you," she added. "I should have said that back at my house, what, two hours ago?" Point made, she raised an eyebrow. "Are you here for a reason or are you just that desperate for me to sign on the dotted line?"

Eric smiled, looking for all the world like a (beautiful) lion, prepared to pounce, baring his teeth. He stepped into her personal bubble, looming over her, using his intimidating height to full advantage. Discomfort itched at Sookie's spine, urging her to lower her eyes, to back away. She shut the instinct down hard.

"Hmm, interesting. It was remiss of me to let you off so lightly last night."

Sookie stiffened warily. But Eric continued, low rasp of a voice swiftly silencing her thoughts, "You have yet to tell me much about your gift."

"Curse," she corrected him absently, regretting it instantly as Eric's eyes flared with the new information, like she had given him her cup size rather than a simple word. Still, it seemed to be a simple enough request, but adding Eric to anything seemed to add a hint of spicy Do Or Die. "What do you want to know?"

"Your cup size," Eric said without missing a beat.

"Wouldn't you prefer to find that out for yourself?" Sookie wanted to know, giving him a sultry look.

"Very much," Eric answered unblinkingly. "But if you are the type of woman to let me fuck you outside a church, I have seriously misjudged you."

Sookie laughed, flashing a bright, teasing grin at him. "Maybe you're just that gorgeous?"

Eric grinned in amusement before the expression settled down into an aloof smirk. "There is no maybe."

There was no way Sookie could argue with that. "Well, at the risk of inflating your ego, you didn't misjudge me."

"I'm disappointed," he remarked, not sounding so. He turned to open the car door, holding it open. "Come."

Biting abruptly down on her tongue to stop _that's what she said _from escaping her mouth, Sookie took a moment to digest his words. "Yeah, I really don't think so."

"Afraid for your life?" Eric inquired cockily.

"My virtue, maybe," Sookie fired back, not being entirely truth.

"A valid concern. Get in the car, Miss Stackhouse," Eric drawled, raising a single blonde eyebrow at her. "I could easily kill everyone in this miserable town and take you if I had the slightest inclination. The longer you play coy and pretend you are unaware of this, the more inclined I grow."

Despite her perpetual irritation with half of the townfolk, the threat hit Sookie hard. Her eyes widened fractionally but she uttered a feeble protest, "My car - "

Eric's patience was clearly running thin; his smirk was becoming a snarl. "Will be returned to your home."

"Without the keys?"

Eric stared at her with lidded eyes, a thousand years of bloodshed in his blue eyes. Worry in the pit of her stomach, Sookie caved, brushing past him to climb into his car.

"So you do know how to heel," Eric remarked, a taunt in his voice as he zipped around the car and sat beside her.

"I bite better," she retorted.

Eric turned his head to look her directly in the eye. His eyes were more hypnotizing than a glamour. His fangs snapped down with a click, white and sharp, catching the light. "As do I."

Sookie tried to stare at him coldly or turn her face away in a huff but her mouth split in a grin despite her best efforts to control it.

* * *

><p>Sookie climbed out of Eric's car, heels hitting the pavement as her head whipped around, taking in the streets. Instead of driving her to Fangtasia as she had half expected, Eric had taken her somewhere else in Shreveport. It was neutral ground to them both. Eric zipped to her side, and she looked up at him.<p>

"Walk with me," he commanded.

"You threatened me with a bluff to get me in your car, so you could drive us to Shreveport for a _walk_?" Sookie said incredulously.

Eric gazed around the street. "I assure you it was no bluff," he said carelessly. "I would have no difficulty dispatching everyone in your quaint little town."

Sookie wondered, slightly uneasy, how many people Eric had slaughtered. He didn't strike her as a senseless idiotic killer, ripping out throats for the simple pleasure of it. Eric could be a brutal, violent monster, but she doubted he was stupid about it.

"People would notice if everyone in Bon Temps ended up dead," Sookie pointed out. "It would be impossible to ignore. It would be a stupid move. One you are way too smart to pull, especially over some girl stalling for an excuse."

"It seems I have misjudged you," Eric stated, surprising her by admitting error.

"Most people do because of my telepathy," Sookie told him, drawing their conversation back on the rails. Eric started to walk, and Sookie reluctantly folled him. He slowed his stride, allowing her to catch up until they were even with each other. It was unexpectedly polite, and she appreciated it.

"How long have you been able to read minds?"

Relieved that he was asking questions since she wasn't entirely sure how to start, Sookie answered promptly, "For as long as I can remember. Let me tell you something, there are some aspects of your teachers and parents' lives that only a lobotomy can erase."

Eric looked darkly amused, but Sookie frowned at the memories. She'd known far more about sex and other things a little kid shouldn't know - like how her third grade teacher was thinking about killing herself, or that her mama was terrified of what Sookie couldn't control, or that her high school teacher liked to look at her.

On the plus side, ignoring the panic attacks that lesson had given her, she had passed that class.

"I had no idea how to control it back then," she said absently. "I learned, eventually, but even now, it's hardly a walk in the park."

"Telepathy comes effortlessly to you?" Eric questioned. His smirk was gone. He seemed to be reading her memories off her face.

"It's not gettin' into people's heads that's the problem, it's staying out."

"How far is your range?"

"Never tested it, _and_ I never plan to. I've heard bad things about aneurysms."

"How do you control your...curse?" he wanted to know, handling the descriptive word like he disagreed with it.

Sookie hesitated, toying with several ways of phrasing. "To be honest," she said finally, "I'm not really sure."

"Excuse me?" Eric said, raising a singular eyebrow.

"I'm not being a deliberate pain in the ass for once," Sookie told him honestly. "I can't explain how I filter people out. I have to concentrate on ignoring the thoughts all of the time, but sometimes I mess up."

Her shields were like spinning plates, and sometimes she did drop a plate but it was usually in incredibly rare situations. She had intentionally made her telepathy seem weaker and more untrained than it was. She kept being able to pick up on certain hot words with her shields up at will entirely to herself. Sookie wasn't about to spill _everything_ to Eric.

"Are you capable of reading any non-human thoughts, like your shifter boss and the werewolf?"

Sookie looked at him with curiosity in her eyes. His knowledge of her was another trick of his, like looming over her with his staggering height, but the disgust in his voice made her wonder what he had against Weres and shifters.

"They don't think like humans do," Sookie answered. "Their minds are clouded and hazy. If the emotion is strong enough I can get whole thoughts out of them but most of the time, random words and a headache to put a layer of hell to shame. Before you ask again, I get even less from vampire minds than a unanimated corpse."

Eric stopped, bringing her to a halt, and walked around to stand before her. "You aren't very tactful."

Sookie felt her cheeks heating up, shame stirring in her stomach as she remembered Sam's expression to her reflexive put-down but nothing could kill her sarcasm. "Eric, do you need me to be tactful?" she asked tenderly.

Eric looked at her with a very masculine desire that made Sookie feel hot sparks shooting through her body. His blue eyes blazed in the dark as he lowered his head to look her nearly in the eye. "Tact is far from what I desire from you."

There was the mental equivalent of a leer from close by - _they look like they're about to start fucking - maybe they will - no one around - I should just tear the fanger's throat out before he can sink his teeth in hers._ The mind had a red haze to it; Were.

Sookie felt her eyes widening in alarm, and Eric bared his human teeth in a knowing smirk. He knew. How long ago had he smelled the Were? Scratch that; three Weres, and a really old jerkass vampire with one not-human girl. If she wasn't accidentally crushed to death, she might drown in the testosterone.

"Did you plan this?" Sookie asked fiercely, panic triggering an adrenaline rush as the Weres readied themselves.

Eric grinned rougishly, a fierce blood lust darkening his eyes. Sookie was forcefully reminded that Eric was an very old, very brutal warrior. "I assure you, this is a happy accident."

As three snarls hit the air, hitting the animal part of her brain with the force of a baseball bat, Sookie gave him a dark look. "After these three finish choking on hairballs, you're driving me home. Provided you have all of your limbs."

"Have faith, Sookie," Eric said, his cold, blood-hungry eyes dancing with a chilling glee. "I will not be bested by _werewolves_."

Sookie swallowed her retort nervously as one of the wolves took offense to his jeer and let out a thunderous howl of rage. A pair of glowing orange eyes appeared in the mouth of an alley. It was like something out of a vivid nightmare.

Eric's fangs clicked down as he released his own hissing snarl, a louder and far more impressive sound. It was the green light for the Weres. Faster than Sookie could follow, two of them were bursting out from the (thankfully empty) street and racing towards Eric.

Eric crouched, a sinster laugh ringing in the air, and then he was a blur to her eyes, lunging at the wolf before him. There was a pained yelp as Eric hurled the gray wolf across the street, whirling to deliver a vicious, jaw-breaking kick to the black wolf's face as it tried to attack his back.

Sookie watched anxiously, ready to provide a distraction if Eric needed one. It wasn't in her nature to stand back and let someone - anyone - be hurt. Considering how vulnerable she was compared to vampires and werewolves, it was lucky Eric showed no sign of needing her help. Especially since the third Were was unaccounted for.

There was a sound behind her, one that put every nerve on her body on edge; the sound of a shift. Sookie twisted around, sucking in a deep breath, her brown eyes wide and doe-like.

A kid stood behind her. Just a kid, a few years younger than herself with light-coloured hair. Eric's roars and snarls, and the Were's pained yelps echoed in her ears. It killed her to stand by and watch.

"It's okay," he said, slowly raising his hands, reassurance in his face. _Glamoured - damn fanger - _"I'm not gonna hurt you." He offered a hand.

The Were thought he was rescuing a victim from a bloodthirsty vampire. She glanced at Eric just in time to see him - a tall blur - sending the two werewolves sprawling like rag dolls with one swing, a look of fierce enjoyment about him. Sookie looked back at the kid, and gingerly took his hand.

Then she leaned back before swinging forward, packing all her strength and the gathered momentum into one punch. The Were's head snapped back and he staggered blindly, skin split from her knuckles, blood running into his eyes. Dimly aware of the sharp shock of pain shooting up her arm, Sookie let herself fall forward a little before regaining her balance, and smashing her elbow into the Were's temple on the back swing.

Without letting either of them recover, Sookie kicked out at his groin, and brought him crashing to his knees like a stack of bricks, his howl of agony ringing through the street. She kicked his shoulder next, knocking him to the floor, and carefully resting her foot on her neck, applying light pressure. If she didn't finish before he collected himself, he would shift into his stronger form and her chances of survival would shrink to zero.

"He wasn't glamourin' me!" Sookie snapped down at him, accent thickening withstress. She glanced over her shoulder at Eric. There was only one Were still capable of standing up, the other was in human form and hopefully just unconscious. "You need to get out of here before he _stops_ being coy!"

After Sookie anxiously moved her foot, the Were stared up at her in astonishment.

"Now! _Go_!"

For a moment longer, the Were hesitated before turning tail and taking off, changing back into his wolf form to run faster. There was a thump behind her as another Were hit the floor, and Sookie turned around, flinching in surprise to find Eric directedly in front of her. There was a wet spray of blood on his cheek, stark on his pale skin, and red painted his hands but not his mouth.

Eric stared down at her from unusually close, the blazing, unreal blue of his eyes devoured by his dark pupils. His fangs glinted with saliva, and his long, blonde hair was dishevelled by the fight. His air of power had been uncoiled. He lowered his head, eyes burning with a feral light of lust, reaching out to grasp the back of her neck possessively. Sookie's feet were rooted to the floor, and Eric pulled her up, ducking himself down to meet her lips.

A volt of sheer crackling electricity was sent straight down to her clit, making her flinch in surprise at the intensity. Her hands went to Eric's broad shoulders, feeling the taunt muscles under her palms, needing to ground herself. Eric snarled into her mouth, hauling her closer until she was pressed up against his torso. His tongue ravished her mouth, tasting every inch of her hungrily as his arms curled around her, one hand fisted her hair brutally while the other curled at the base of her spine.

Some instincts were too integrated to ever truly fade. As a Viking, Eric's instincts seemed to be pretty intent on taking his spoils of war (or more honestly, snit-fit with a bunch of werewolves).

"Eric," Sookie gasped into his mouth, more of a protest than a moan. _Stop him - pull away - pull away - now - c'mon, Stackhouse - _

Eric's fist clenched in her hair, his chest rumbling against her breasts with a growl, and Sookie pushed her hands into his shoulders, shoving herself away from him. She backed away, lips red and flushed, eyes dilated, feeling herself burning hotly with lust, and shook her head at him firmly. "No, no. Nah-uh. No way, no how."

Eric retracted his fangs with a click and straightened to his full, imposing height. His eyes remained dark, ravenously fixed to her form. "Very well...Sookie."

A shiver of lust writhed down her spine. "What was _that_ about?"

"You do not belong in a small-minded town with God-fearing hypocrites and xenophobic rednecks," Eric said darkly, speaking the words with a stark honesty that could have unhinged a more sensitive woman.

"So you kissed me?"

His eyes dropped pointedly to her hand, and Sookie realized some of the Were's blood was on her hand, dripping to the floor. "Oh! For the record; eww."

* * *

><p>As he drove, Eric thought about Sookie Stackhouse. Her eyes glowed with good humor, an unpredictable one that swung from odd to delightfully sardonic, and her smile beamed with unashamed zest for life. Her figure was lush, curved beautifully, all tanned skin and blonde curls and dark, wicked eyes in a modest sundress.<p>

She was a marvel. A fuckable one with a skill for violence and a mouth like honey.

Her blood smelt exquisite, as honeyed as her mouth but with an edge of sex, but he was faintly surprised to find it less fascinating than the girl with it pumping through her veins. Her sass was refreshing, so unlike the vermin begging and crawling for his attention.

It had taken more restraint than she would ever know not to fuck her in the middle of the street when she reeked of sinful arousal, and him, and a fight. What other tiny human woman could beat two psycho's on vampire blood into the ground? And disarm a Were so thoroughly?

Would she be as much as a hellcat in bed as she was out of it? Fierce and unyielding under him, above him? He could picture her riding him vividly, her head flung back, pink lips parted in a moan, a sheen of sweat on her breasts as she finally - fucking finally - was at a loss for words.

Eric could feel his dick throbbing angrily against his zipper, demanding Sookie Stackhouse. Anyone else would be a consolation prize. He was used to getting what he wanted, but he had a feeling she would not yield to him easily. No other woman had ever pushed him away.

"Turn left," Sookie told him, her golden head propped up on her hand. Her scent was blown around wildly by the wind. She grinned at him brightly. "And follow the yellow brick road, my dear vampire."

Her neck should be snapped for the audacity of laying claim to him, however flippantly, but the idea of causing her lively eyes to dim was a distasteful one. Eric appreciated strength in any form, and the tiny telepath possessed much of it. She was a rare individual. Pam would be disgusted by the idea.

"Yours, my tiny human?" Eric purred, delighted by the sound of her heartbeat stuttering.

"I figured you would prefer that to Toto, and you're no cowardly lion," Sookie told him sardonically, a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. As he drove up her driveway, Eric tried not to curse at the numerous potholes, jaw clenching in irritation.

At the sound of her laughter, his eyes snapped to her and stared at her coldly. He was amused by her and he wanted to have her, but he would not take mockery from her. He wasn't Compton, too obsessed with what her dress hid to retain his pride.

"I'm sorry," Sookie said around a shit-eating grin. "But judging by the look on your face, if you were in a grave, you would've been spinnin'."

"Indeed," he said coolly, parking outside her house. He raised an eyebrow as she climbed out of his car, catching a delightful glimpse of her tanned legs. "No kiss?"

Sookie twisted around to look at him, bracing her hands on the side of his corvette. "You've already had one," she told him sternly before relaxing into a sultry grin that made his dick twitch. She would be smiling like that as he entered her. "But since you braved my drive way, I'll give you something better." She pointed at her cleavage. "34B."

That size was too small, Eric decided, not needing to refresh his memory but looking anyway.

"Miss Stackhouse, I never took you for a liar."

Sookie laughed again as she bounced up her porch steps, fishing her keys out and unlocking the door. Her laughter choked off into silence, and the strong smell of cooling blood hit Eric's advanced nose. It was a large amount of blood, pints and pints of it. Potent enough for Sookie to smell. Eric's fangs snapped down instinctively, hunger stirring...

And then he recognized the two scents. Eric lunged thoughtlessly out of the car, reaching Sookie's porch just as light flooded her blood-splattered kitchen and she saw everything.

* * *

><p><strong>Two scents. A cliffhanger, a game changer. A SE kiss. A doubtlessly awful Eric POV scene. I write his words better than his thoughts. I should avoid writing from his eyes in the future, yes?**

**Reviews are the cure to cliffhangers.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**Tomorrow is my birthday. I'm going to be fifteen. To mark this tragic event, I have a proposal. If you spoil me (with reviews), I will spoil you and answer some questions. Within reason, of course. :D**

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><p>The second Sookie entered her kitchen, shoes off, the repulsive smell of rust and iron reached her nose. Her stomach twisted with bile and she froze, heart stuttering before taking off at a frantic pace, pumping adrenaline through her body. An image of Dawn's lifeless blue eyes flashed through her head. Her hands curled into fists, a breathless panic throbbing through her. She searched the dark with frantic eyes.<p>

And then the pieces clicked together with a snap. It was too late. Blood was thick in the air, nearly enough for her to choke on it. Her mind splintered under the weight of a vicious surge of wild terror. Gran, where was Gran? DGA meeting? Home?

Her breathing spiked in distress, every inch of her heart rejected the idea desperately but her gut knew, and her mind cruelly latched to the knowledge, leaving her no hope of denial. Sookie stood in the dark, staring with unseeing brown eyes.

Her arm lifted of its own will to turn on the light, and her kitchen was revealed.

She had burned cookies in this kitchen with her Gran. She shared a dozen conversations, a dozen laughs, a dozen sunny memories. Jason had started so many arguments by snagging food off her plate, and Gran had calmed every one of them. After Uncle Bartlett, Gran had gathered Sookie up on her lap and rocked her gently, softly singing _Hey Jude_ in her hair, holding back her sorrow for her sake because Gran had known tears would break her.

That memory was particularly vivid as one of the only times Sookie could remember feeling completely safe.

The white peeling cabinets were splattered with vibrant red blood, dripping slowly downwards. Droplets of blood littered the worn floor. Tina was lapping up the blood with her pink tongue, purring at the light.

There was a second figure just inside the kitchen; blue checkered flannel, worn blue jeans, brown boots. Sam Merlotte was laying on his side, angled to face the kitchen sink, face half-hidden in a dark red pool of his own blood. His blue eyes were closed, his hair was soaked with blood. He had been stabbed three times in the stomach.

Sookie coud feel the imprint of his lips on hers, and her heart gave a violent pang of grief. The pang swelled rapidly, causing her eyes to burn with tears like acid, and her breath to sharpen. Her eyes dropped to the figure sprawled gracelessly in front of her.

Her Gran lay in a thick pool of black-red blood, long gray hair floating in the liquid. Her white nightdress was torn by several vicious knife wounds all over. Her body was curled up, facing opposite the sink. There was terror in her eyes, and her kind, loving face was twisted into something horrible.

Sookie felt pain surging from deep in her bones, barreling towards her at a terrible speed. The impact shattered her chest wide open. Agony filled her lungs, leaving her struggling for breath. The intensity was unbearable, and she dropped to her knees. Into her Gran's blood.

Sookie flung herself backwards, scrambling away. A masculine voice rumbled in her ears, loud and authoritative, and she dimly heard herself answering with a broken whisper, "Come in."

Then there were thick, strong arms lifting her into a broad, muscular chest and away from the blood. Her instincts were too overcome to respond to the unexpected touch.

"I strongly advise you refrain from vomiting," Eric gritted at Sookie warningly.

"Wasn't plannin' on it," Sookie murmured, vulnerable and boneless in his arms. Her gaze was spinning, leaving her disoriented, but she felt _too_ sick to actually throw up. "I'm not gonna faint," she added, almost threateningly, to herself.

"You may pass out," Eric permitted her. A break from the horror and shock crashing down on her with the force of a waterfall, smashing her heart into a bloody pulp? It was tempting but she clung to consciousness out of habit. "But you are _not_ to cry."

Sookie knocked her head against his shoulder lightly, lacking the energy and the stupidity to punch him in the arm. "Am I allowed to breath?" she asked in a wispy voice.

"As long as you are silent," Eric retorted, pretending her words weren't intended as sarcasm.

"Never," she whsipered. Sookie's golden head fell forward to observe his black boots as he moved fluidly around the table to spare her the sight of her Gran's empty eyes. He nudged Tina lightly, and Tina rose to follow Eric as he put Sookie down on the kitchen table. Even now, he needed to lower himself to meet her big brown eyes.

"The shifter is still alive," Eric told her. Sookie inhaled sharply, the truth in his words hitting her square in the chest with a _thwack_. He pressed his cell phone into her hand, and she took it, automatically dialling. There was no pity or even sympathy in his eyes, just a harsh, burning flame.

The direct stare persisted for a long, lingering moment. Eric broke the gaze when Sookie lifted the cell to her ear and frantically explained the situation. She called the police too. His drilling stare returned to her when she slipped off the table and hurried to Sam's side to staunch the bleeding with a towel.

"Sookie!" The thick Southern accent of Bill Compton called out to her.

"Bill Compton," Eric declared coldly, distaste ringing through his deep voice.

"Eric," Bill spat.

"Jesus Christ," Sookie murmured, pressing the towel down on Sam's stomach with as much force as she dared.

"What have you done to her?" Bill demanded furiously. "I can smell the blood!"

Eric tutted condescendingly, rumbling a disdainful response, "If your sense of smell was more developed, you would know the blood does not belong to Sookie Stackhouse."

Sookie faltered. Tending to Sam gave her a purpose, a distraction, but the reminder stuck her like a dozen hot knives. She could feel Eric's eyes on her, unreadable and cool. She hardened herself. She refused to break, period, but there was a particular indignity in losing it in front of other people. Gran came off as effortlessly dignified.

"So sweet of you to remind me," Sookie gritted out, glaring up at Eric from her knees.

There was an imperceptible flare in Eric's eyes, either lust or approval.

"Sookie, you must invite me in!" Bill ordered her frantically.

"Stopping my friend from bleeding to death is a little higher on my To-Do list!" Sookie snapped temperously. Her blood boiled with impotent rage at how helpless she felt. Holding a towel to Sam's stomach wasn't doing him much good. He was bleeding out fast, and he'd already lost too much. A dizzy panic swirled around her chest as her mind scrambled frantically for a solution.

"Then allow me to assist you," Bill suggested desperately. His words made Eric glance in his direction.

"Bill, if you really want to help me, checkin' the piece of shit who did this isn't still lurking around would be just _peachy_," Sookie said, every word spoken with a great tension, taut and wire-tight. It was better than screaming.

"I agree, Miss Stackhouse," Eric said, a crisp note to his voice. "Run along, Bill."

"I will not leave Sookie with the likes of you!"

"Out of curiosity, Bill, exactly _how_ would being trapped outside my house help if Eric went nuts and tried to eat me?" Sookie snapped. "Now, if y'all are done with the damn rulers, either help me or get the hell _off_ my property!"

"Sookie," Bill called loudly, "My blood can heal Sam!"

Sookie felt a faint flutter of hope in her gut. Gran...Gran couldn't, but Sam could. She needed Sam to live - selflessly and selfishly.

"The shifter has already lost too much blood," Eric spoke in a swift yet dismissive tone. "Heal him completely and you risk turning him."

"So don't heal him completely, just - just enough," Sookie said immediately, looking at Eric with wide brown eyes. He met her gaze, something swirling in the icy blue depths.

"Very well," Eric said coolly, looking away from her to the door. "Compton."

"Come in, Bill."

At once, Bill burst in her kitchen, stuttering to a brief stunned halt at - at Gran.

Sickened, Sookie turned her head away, pain splitting her heart in half. And then Bill zipped around the table, past Eric, and crouched down beside her. He lifted his wrist to his mouth, fangs snicking down, then with a disgusting crunch, Bill bit down on his wrist and brought it to Sam's mouth. Blood dripped down her boss' throat...and Sam's muscles swallowed instinctively.

Half of Sookie's energy evaporated as faint tendrils of relief spread through her. Aimlessly, she rose from the floor, eyes drifting toward her Gran, like an inevitability. She wrenched her eyes away, feeling sickeningly open, balling her fists until the skin threatened to split.

"Miss Stackhouse," Eric murmured. Sookie looked at him, and he flickered his blue eyes towards the front room. Eager to leave the kitchen, Sookie shot him a single sardonic look before moving into the sitting room.

As always, Eric acted as though he owned her personal bubble and stood close to her, lowering for her. "I need to leave."

Crushing the fleeting swirl of disappointment in her stomach, Sookie nodded knowingly. "I figured." At the faint quirk of his eyebrow, Sookie slumped and looked up at him starkly. "Blood on your clothes, and no reason to be here. It wouldn't look good."

Eric lingered, pale eyes burning like fire and ice. "We have many things to discuss," he said. "I will return. Until then, tread carefully. I suspect Compton would be more of a hindrance to you than a help, my tiny human."

"I'll save my best snark for you, my dear." It was easier to mimic her own personality away from the kitchen where the air was clearer. Eric's composure seemed to feed her own.

Bill's head snapped around. "Sookie - " he choked out, horror in his voice.

Eric chuckled softly, almost sinisterly, a victorious smirk on his cold face before he zipped away. Within an instant, Bill was in front of her, reaching out to grab her before remembering. "Sookie, Eric - "

Sookie looked at him with worry in her face. "Is Sam...?"

"My blood has slowed the bleeding," Bill answered curtly. "You do not understand, Sookie. Eric is vampire - "

"Kinda hard to miss," she muttered sarcastically, feigning a disappointed huff.

Oblivious to Bill's expression, Sookie locked her eyes on Sam and knelt by his side, using the towel to gently wipe the drops of vampire blood off his face. His breathing was shallow but regular.

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><p>When the ambulance arrived, Sam was strapped to a gurney and carted away to the closest hospital in Monroe. Sookie drifted into the sitting room, lowering herself to the couch. Her hands linked in her lap, slick with cooling blood. A cotton-candy numbness tried to settle over her but Sookie fought it off.<p>

She wanted the pain and the hurt and the gaping, screaming hole in her chest that made every cell in her body howl. Gran deserved every stab, twist and salt-in-the-wound of agony but Sookie kept her tears at bay. They were for Gran, not Mike Spencer, his assistant, Andy Bellefluer and Bud Dearborne.

"You got any prints?" Dearborne asked in the kitchen.

"Nothing clean, just a partial one on the sink," Andy replied.

Sookie turned her head sharply, a flare of life in her eyes that dimmed rapidly. Her eyes were drawn to the white of Gran's night dress like a moth to a flame. Andy, Bud, Mike and the boy were standing around her body, thoughts fluttering in the air. Sookie felt the tension in her body increasing until her body flinched, mind warring with the childish instinct to go to her Gran.

Her toes curled painfully tight, muscles coiling, legs ready to move, iron on her tongue and a scream rising in her throat - _go to her, go to her, go to her_.

Sookie rose to her feet before abruptly gaining control of herself. Unable to stay inside, she grabbed her cell and forced herself out the door. The air was hot, suffocating, but she breathed it in greedily. She could still taste blood on her tongue. Her body called her to Gran but she resisted.

She flipped through her contacts list, hesitating over Eric's number, before calling Dawson. No answer. She left a message, cursing him out for avoiding her so blatantly and warning him that Sam Merlotte, a shifter, was in the hospital, and if he could pull his head out of his ass to make sure no one noticed anything supernatural about him with one of his contacts, that would be awesome.

Next, she called Jason. Like Dawson, there was no answer. Sookie called Hoyt and asked him to send Jason over to her house.

"Are you okay, Sookie? You sound kind of..." Hoyt trailed off awkwardly, genuine concern in his voice. "Are you sick? Do - do you need anything? I don't mind swinging by."

Sookie swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her heart melting in her chest. Hoyt had always been so kind, honestly, genuinely kind. It made her think of Gran, and to a lesser extent, Sam. "I need my brother," she admitted softly, a crack of emotion in her voice.

"I'll find him," Hoyt swore, a resolve in his voice. "Take care, Sookie."

After hanging up, she steadied herself, blinking away her tears. Bill walked out of the house and sat on the porch step beside her.

"I'm apologize if I seemed abrupt with you earlier."

"You should be," Sookie murmured, arching her eyebrows like nothing was wrong. "Abrupt is_ my_ schtick."

"I was merely concerned for your safety," Bill said to justify himself.

"Next time, ask if I'm okay before leapfrogging to conclusions."

"Are you alright?" Bill asked, turning his head to look at her profile. Sookie kept her gaze distant and fixed ahead. "If there is anything I can do to help you, I will do it gladly. I care for you, Sookie."

"Enough to stop hitting on me while I'm covered in blood?" Sookie asked dully. The hurt on his face made her flinch. It looked so much like Sam's. She couldn't shake what her instincts told her about him but she knew she was being unfair to Bill. "I'm sorry. You saved Sam's life, and you made Gran so happy..."

More than she had.

"Sookie?" Bill questioned softly, a faint trace of shock in his voice.

Before Sookie could continue, there was a woosh behind them, and Eric appeared beside her porch swing. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," he said, a twist of mocking in his cool voice.

The lack of pity in his voice was soothing to Sookie, crushing the knot of guilt in her stomach. "Bullshit," she observed quietly.

Eric gave her another drilling stare, a retort posed on his tongue but Bill stood up, scowling at the blonde vampire. "Why are you here, Eric? I do not believe you care for Sookie's welfare."

"That is between Miss Stackhouse and I," Eric said sharply, the hard note of threat in his voice. His expression could have been carved from stone, hard and unyielding. Bill adverted his eyes, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh, is it?" Sookie asked half heartedly. "Because you didn't get around to telling me that part..."

"True," Eric acknowledged coolly. His eyes flickered to Bill. "Leave us." Bill puffed himself up but Eric shut him down. "I strongly advise you do not test my patience with pointless idiocy, Compton."

Bill hesitated before looking at Sookie as though seeking permission. Sookie looked at him blankly before realizing that was exactly what he was doing. "Oh. I'll be fine. You can," she shooed him away limply, drained of her usual spark, "Go on home."

"I do not trust him," Bill said as though that mattered to her.

"You made that pretty clear."

Bill looked affronted but with a lingering look, he took off into the woods. Eric moved closer to her until a mere inch seperated them, icy eyes filled with all the heat in hell. "Bon Temps is no longer safe for you."

"Good thing I don't scare easy," Sookie said with a sharp edge to her voice, a shadow of her ferocity. Her resolve hardened, filling her with determination made unbreakable by grief. She loved Gran more than her own parents - enough to survive tonight, to keep being fiery, unyielding Sookie Stackhouse for her.

"If you remain here, you will be putting yourself at risk," Eric pointed out in his dark, flowing voice.

"My telepathy makes me pretty hard to sneak up on," Sooke told him. Only three people had ever been able to sneak up on her. One of them was lost to her now. A hot stab of pain rippled across her nervous system but she held strong. Not yet, not here.

"I am confident you will be capable of defending yourself against a human assassin," Eric rumbled, sweeping his eyes down her small frame. Her hands were splattered and stained with blood. "Within reason. I will make arrangements for a guard." His icy blue eyes sharpened, sparks of raw intelligence glinting in his eyes. "How long have you been aware of the existence of werewolves?"

Sookie startled a little but she realized instantly what had given her away. She should have acted shocked when the werewolves ambushed them back in Shreveport but the actual fight had jarred her too much for her to even think of that.

"I was fourteen, I slipped up and heard something I shouldn't," she admitted, lying by omission. "Considering how I overheard, I could hardly dismiss the idea as nuts."

Eric stared at her, seeming to consider her words. "You surprise me," he said finally. "That is a rare quality in a breather."

"_Breather_?"

Behind her, the door creaked open, and she turned around to see Andy Bellefluer, who looked at Eric in surprise. "Who are you? And where is vampire Bill?"

"What's happening?" Sookie crossed her arms defensively over her chest. There was an nagging suspicion in the pit of her stomach.

Her deflection worked. Andy looked uncomfortable but he didn't have to explain. A wave of hot agony broke over Sookie when Mike Spencer and his assistant carried a black body bag out of her house.

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><p>Eric didn't offer to help her clean the kitchen but he did sit down at the table, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Sookie hadn't expected nor wanted him to help. It was something she needed to do by herself. She couldn't take care of Sam or Gran but she could damn well clean up the aftermath.<p>

Following Eric's suggestion, Sookie dried up as much as she could with several dish cloths before scrubbing the floor with lilic scented soapy water and a sponge. Eventually, Eric ordered her to stop. Of course, she refused.

"I can still smell the blood," Sookie told him in a slightly frenzied voice, scrubbing the floor frantically. The small of her back ached, and her arm felt unusually heavy.

"Calm yourself," Eric commanded.

"Go play with yourself," Sookie suggested automatically. There was no heat or effort behind the words.

Eric seemed to recognize this because he didn't tear into her neck or even threaten her. Instead, he chuckled lowly, a fizzle of heat in his voice. "Keeping bending over, Miss Stackhouse, and I will consider it an invitation."

Despite his dominant nature, he hadn't simply hauled her off the floor and made her stop like he could easily do. The mere idea of touch made Sookie's skin crawl with disquiet. If he had grabbed her, she would have lashed out in a wild rage - and common sense suggested that no one fucked with Eric Northman's balls.

All evidence suggested he knew how she would react but that had to be bullshit. If the first person to anticipate her thought pattern was a one-thousand-year old Viking, it was clearly a sign that God _did_ exist - and he hated her.

Sookie clenched her fist, gaining a measure of satisfaction by crushing the sponge, and looked up at him. "You consider everything to be an invitation."

Eric smirked at her, cocky and charming and oddly soothing to her frayed, sparking nerves. But before he could continue their banter, a sharp stab of hot fury hit Sookie between the eyes. Her hand flew to her temple as Eric looked to the side, hearing something that made his face darken.

It was Jason, and he was pissed as hell. Sookie climbed to her feet, catching fleeting images between the senseless fury clouding her brother's head. Hoyt had stopped Jason from going back to his with some trampy woman and convinced her drunk brother to let him drive to her house. Distracted by Jason drunk rambling, Hoyt had almost crashed her brother's beloved truck into Andy's squad car.

Jason knew about Gran.

Sookie closed her eyes with a soft groan. "This is going to be bad."

"He blames you for your grandmother's death," Eric warned her.

Sookie looked at him for a moment, a self-deprecatingly twist to her lips, before going outside to meet her brother. She climbed down the porch steps, watching as Jason stormed towards her with Hoyt hurrying after him. There was something in his posture that raised Sookie's hackles. Despite her attempts to calm down, she felt herself stiffening, feet parting in a subconscious expectation of a fight, fists curling.

"Jason - " Sookie said, a note that wavered between placating and hard in her voice. Her brother's arm moved, Hoyt screamed, "JASON!", and shock blazed across Sookie's mind - _he wouldn't -_-

He would. There was a blur of movement from behind her, and then Jason cried out in pain, tanned wrist being crushed by Eric's pale hand. Eric's fangs were down, glinting sharply, and a low, dangerous noise rumbled in his chest. It was nothing compared to the boiling intensity in his pale blue eyes.

"Motherfu - " Jason gasped, blood draining from his face, fear widening his eyes. Eric's other hand closed around his throat, and lifted Jason several inches above the floor until he was nearly taller than Eric himself.

"Jesus!" Hoyt gasped while Sookie stared at her brother in blank shock, heart stinging with hurt.

Eric stared at Jason coldly as he writhed in the air, trying to pry the stronger man's fingers away from his throat. "This is the brother you put yourself at risk to protect?" Distaste was clear in Eric's low voice as he referred to their first meeting. "A disloyal coward? I never took you to be so..._sentimental_, Sookie."

Jason made a panicked, choking sound.

A wild, desperate panic surged from the pit of Sookie's stomach - _not Jason too_ - but it cooled when she realized Eric wasn't actually strangling Jason. Hurting him but not seriously, not fatally, not like Gran who had been stabbed and murdered and her blood was all over Sookie, and Jason - her big brother who loved her, who was supposed to protect her and had no idea how badly he failed - had just tried to hit her.

He really did blame her. It wasn't that she thought Eric had been lying to her - why would he _bother_? - but she hadn't expected Jason to truly believe that. Not deep down.

No, no. He blamed himself for not being around, but he was directing it at her. It was easier, like clinging to sarcasm and pretending it wasn't happening was easier for Sookie. It hurt.

"Let him go." Her voice was unfamiliar to her, soft where it should be hard and hard where it should be soft. The Viking rolled his head to look at her. "He isn't dumb enough to try it again."

"Yes, he is," Eric disagreed but he unceremoniously dropped Jason like a piece of trash to the floor. Hoyt grabbed Jason, who was gasping for air and gripping his throat in silent panic, and helped him to his feet. Sookie shifted closer to her brother.

"What the hell kind of people are you hanging around with?" Jason demanded, staggering away from Eric, who gazed at him coldly.

Sookie was in a volatile mindset. Her grief was bottled up tight enough to make her head hurt. She was scared for Sam and tired and shaken. And she felt betrayed. She trusted Jason, her big brother, not to hurt her. He was her blood, her only blood now. He was a selfish fucking bastard at times but she knew he was grieving too.

But trust wasn't automatic anymore; Jason had shattered hers, and he didn't care enough to even _apologize._

Sookie's temper fizzled and snapped but she didn't physically lash out, like most would expect from her. Jason was her brother, and that meant something to her.

"The kind of person who just stopped my own brother from hitting me," Sookie replied cuttingly, fury snapping in her cool voice like cracking ice. "What do you think Gran would say about that, huh, Jase?"

"Gran's dead because of you!" Jason screamed, rage licking at her hotly in his voice.

"Gran's gone because somebody killed her!" Sookie screamed back, nails digging into her palms, eyes spitting flames of fury. "While _neither_ of us were there to help her! It isn't my fault, but that don't automatically make it yours!"

Sookie knew her brother. After their daddy's death, he was the man of the house, and he'd always taken the responsibility too far. Not being able to magically sense danger and protect Gran wrecked him.

A tortured look contorted Jason's face. "You're readin' my mind," he accused frantically. "That- that ain't fair."

"_Fair_?" Sookie repeated furiously. "You think fair has _anything _to do with this? I came home to a bloodbath, there is nothing fair about that! I had to stop Sam from bleeding to death with Gran's body less than a foot away! I had to keep my shit together, and you've lost yours completely! You think I even need to read your mind anymore, Jason? I'm your _sister_, remember?"

Sookie shook her head, anger dimming to hurt. Her eyes burned painfully. "But maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did." Her gaze flickered to Hoyt, who looked torn between shock and horror. "Get him out of here before I end up wearing more of my family's blood."

For the first time, Jason looked at her - the blood dried on her knees, the vivid red stains on her dress, the flecks and splatters of blood on her arms. He went sheet white, and let Hoyt drag him to his truck, getting in without argument.

"You seem to be a conduct for chaos, Miss Stackhouse," Eric noted, not sounding particularly disappointed about that.

All Sookie could do was plaster a sarcastic smile on her face and turn to him. "At least I waited until you were back and ready to literally save my face before getting into more trouble."

Undertone: _Thank you._

* * *

><p>The vultures circled, flapping their mouths insistantly. Gossip in the air. Sookie sat stiffly in the kitchen, plates spinning in her mind, staring unblinkingly at the spot where Gran had been. Her mood was still, not calm but sedated. Close to numb.<p>

"Not a word of grief from her - "

" - so rude, that Stackhouse girl - "

" - snarling at anyone who comes close - "

"I heard she hasn't cried a single tear - "

That was true. After Eric had been driven away by the sun, Sookie had expected herself to crumple but the odd calm clung to her, bringing sarcasm spewing from her mouth, sending the vultures flying back to safety.

Sookie knew how she reacted to things - recklessly, wildly, thoughtlessly, desperately. If Eric hadn't been there, if she hadn't been forced to hold herself together because there was no way she would be open and vulnerable and grieving around someone else...

It would have been bad and stupid and explosive. But now, she couldn't stop.

Her chest was crushed by a pressure that grew heavier with every moment until Sookie wanted desperately to start screaming and clawing at her skin until she reached bone, until she felt relief. She couldn't cry, she shouldn't scream, and she wouldn't break. Gran wouldn't have wanted it.

But Adelle Stackhouse wouldn't have wanted the false, gushing sympathy either, though she would have accepted it gracefully. Sookie wasn't her Gran. Tara and Lafayette had been running damage control for her all morning.

"Hey, Sookie..." Arlene ventured hesitantly, clearly having been pre-warned.

Sookie's eyes flickered up to her. "What are we going to do about the bar?"

As soon as she'd woken up, less than three hours after crawling into Gran's bed with Tina, she had called the hospital about Sam. He was in a coma, unlikely to wake up anytime soon, but alive. Unlike Gran.

"Oh, honey," Arlene cooed, taking the seat beside her and grasping her hand. "You shouldn't be worrying about that, not today."

"I'd prefer to think about that than funeral arrangements," Sookie told her frankly. Arlene's face grimaced with sadness, and she gripped the blonde's hand a little tighter. Knowing Arlene was genuine, she squeezed back.

"I'll take care of shit until you is ready, Sook," Lafayette told her as Tara went over to accept a dish from Maxine Fortenberry and bullshit her into staying away from Sookie.

"My angels," Sookie murmured flatteringly.

"What?" Arlene questioned, brow furrowing in confusion. "Sookie, you can't be thinking of runnin' the bar all by yourself - sweetie, you've got enough on your plate - "

"So have you with two kids," Sookie pointed out, no real enthusiasm in her voice. Taking care of Sam's business was the least she could do for him. "The stress would put Terry back in hospital, and Tara started a couple of days ago."

"Don't you worry, Arlene," Lafayette interjected. "Me and Sook can run the show like nobodies business. Ain't that right, Tara?"

Tara snorted. "It'll be real interestin'."

Arlene looked hesitant but she was being worn down - none of them could afford to close the place until Sam woke up, whenever that was, and aside from Lafayette, Sookie had been working at Merlotte's the longest.

Sookie heard the front door open; another guest. "And that's the sound of my blood pressure spiking," she murmured wearily.

There was a sudden hushed pause outside the kitchen before whispers filled the air.

"Oh, shit is about to get real," Lafayette predicted lowly. Beside him, Tara cursed.

Their reactions and the shock on Arlene's face caught Sookie's attention. Her head whipped around, and she found the cause of attention instantly. He was taller than she remembered but just as handsome. His skin was bronzed by the sun, his brown hair was artfully tousled, and he looked older but it suited him. His clothes - jeans and a crisp white shirt - fitted his muscular body very well. The somber look on his face clashed with his mischievous facial features.

He was nothing compared to Eric, but he took her breath away.

Across the crowd of people, Sookie met the soft brown eyes of JB Du Rone for the first time in ten years.

Shock cracked Sookie's inexplicable calm. A tornado of butterflies fluttered frantically around her stomach. The warm glow of remembered feelings warmed her. A look of astonishment softened her face, and JB stared at her intently but he made no move to come closer. Swallowing, Sookie forced herself to remember his expression - stunned and hurt and disbelieving - when they had broken up.

"Need an escape?" Lafayette whispered.

"Like fucking yesterday," Sookie replied breathlessly. She took his hand when he offered it to her. Tara put an arm around her shoulder, shielding her from JB as the three moved past her ex-boyfriend and up the stairs.

When she glanced back once, she saw JB standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her.

"Can you believe this shit?" Tara demanded when they were sitting on Sookie's bed.

"Motherfucking crazy," Lafayette agreed, shaking his head. He eyed Sookie. "How you doing, honey child?"

"Heart's still pounding," she noted softly, frowning. "I shouldn't be feelin' like this. What the hell is wrong with me? Gran's _gone_, and I'm..."

"Some pain is too big to handle right away," Lafayette said sagely.

"I know you," Tara said comfortingly. "You won't let yourself feel all of it until the circling buzzards downstairs back the fuck off. Numb is what you need to keep going right now."

"I can't cry," Sookie said softly, dark eyes going distant. "I'm not numb. It hurts but not like it should, like it _will_, and I can't cry. I want to, I need to, but I _can't_."

Tara chewed her lip for a moment before moving up the bed until she was sitting beside the blonde. Picking up on something in her thoughts, Sookie rested her head on Tara's thighs and closed her eyes. Lafayette pulled her legs up onto his lap, rubbing her knee platonically.

"I'd fucking lose it if anything happen to you," Tara told her softly.

"I love you," Sookie said abruptly, startling them both. "I never said that enough to Gran. I can't even remember the last time I said that to her."

There was a tentative knock on the bedroom door. Before Tara could tell them to fuck off, Jason spoke, "Sookie?" his voice was quiet, hesitant and ashamed. "Can I come in?"

"Want me to tell him to leave?" Tara asked. Sookie didn't have the heart to tell her what Jason had tried to do last night but Tara seemed to be holding a grudge anyway.

"No." Sookie sat up, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her legs like a child. "I'll deal with it."

Taking her lack of rejection as acceptance, Jason opened the door and peered in. He swallowed, looking at Sookie.

"We should go check on the circling buzzards," Lafayette said, shooting Tara a pointed look. With a sigh, her friend stood up and brushed past Jason out of the room. Showing he wasn't oblivious to her tension, Lala kissed her forehead. "If you be needing anything, I'll be puttin' my cousin in line."

After Lafayette breezed out of the room, Sookie looked at her brother with expectation. Jason swallowed again, looking around awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was sweating. "I - I didn't know the wake was today."

As usual, Sookie was blunt and direct. "You tried to hit me, you're way ahead in asshole points than I am."

Jason flinched, looking disgusted with himself. "I'm so sorry, Sookie," he said thickly. "I don't expect you to forgive me - "

"I don't," Sookie told him frankly. "You hurt me a whole lot. I never expected...I trusted you, more than anybody outside of Gran..."

"I fucked up," Jason said hoarsely, shame growing with every word out of her mouth.

"You did," she agreed, climbing off the bed. Bracing himself, Jason met her eyes. "But Gran's gone," Sookie said softly, watching him cringe at the truth. "It feels petty to be pissed at you right now."

"What?"

"Oh, believe me, I will be _pissed_ at you later but I need my brother, and you need me."

Jason sucked in a shaking breath. "Gran always hated it when we fought."

Sookie nodded, running a hand through her hair. She let Jason draw her into a tight hug, and squeezed him back.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sookie rolled over and opened her eyes to a huge bouquet of fresh white lilies. She felt a moment of puzzlement and faint alarm before spotting the note.<p>

_Since I am unable to send you his head on a spike, as I'm certain you would prefer, flowers will have to do_ ~ E

Eric had (broke into her room to) send her flowers, beautiful flowers. Lillies for death. With an odd deflating sensation, Sookie realized today was the funeral. The finality in the word unnerved her. An instinct urged her to close the curtains and hide under the covers, in the dark, like a frightened child but denial wasn't an option.

Tina meowed impatiently at Sookie, forcing her to get up and feed the cat. Jason spent the night in his old room. He went home to change into his suit. Sookie took a shower and dressed for her grandmother's funeral, feeling a sense of dislocation from what was happen.

Remembering how her Gran liked it, Sookie pinned her hair up in a bun and put on some pale pink lipstick. Jason drove them to the funeral in silence. Lafayette and Tara met her there. Sookie sat between Jason, who bounced his kness furiously, and Tara. JB ended up sitting beside Lafayette but she barely noticed.

Sookie drifted in a strange fog. And then a spike of sheer blind panic sent her crashing down into her body. The priest was talking but something was horribly wrong. Jason was breathing heavily, and Terry was sobbing behind her, but that wasn't it.

Sookie blinked the sun out of her eyes, looking ahead. Her heart stopped from shock, her stomach _rolled_, and her knees clamped tightly together instinctively. The force of her horror destroyed her train of thought but the mental voice was unmistakable, and her eyes saw him clearly.

Uncle Bartlett was being pushed up the hill in a wheelchair by a man.

* * *

><p><strong>I hate myself.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>Uncle Bartlett approached the funeral service.<p>

Sookie's entire nerve system recoiled in wild, instinctive fear. Bile boiled in her stomach, gut churning with a blind horror. Rage pulsed through her, making her blood crackle with coiled up fury like a feral flame.

All those emotions hit her with the force of a bomb dropping from the sky. The intensity knocked Sookie forward, hair tumbling over her forehead as she doubled over and clapped a hand to her mouth - to stop herself from screaming in blind terror, to stop herself from emptying her stomach, to stop a wild battle cry piercing the air - and breathed through her nose.

She was too scared to close her eyes but she tried to force her mind to lock onto breathing. She felt dangerously close to the edge of something great and terrible, mind spinning wildly out of control. _No_, she begged, utterly desperate, _no, no, no, no no no no -_

"Oh, my God," Tara exclaimed in concern.

"Oh, _shit_," Lafayette murmured, worry stabbing at her mind like a knife.

"Sook, you okay?" Jason asked anxiously.

Then came JB's light Southern drawl, not panicking but a calm attempt to snap her out of it, "Sookie."

Sookie could feel the wall in her mind that kept her functioning splintering, the harsh snapping sounds echoing in her ears like broken bones. The plates crashed to the floor, and thoughts flooded in. The distraction from her own head made her feel a split second flicker of release - and then Uncle Bartlett was in her head, and he was remembering -

Rage. Pure, blistering, wild rage burned away her fear. She wanted to kill, to hurt with her bare hands until they were coated with blood. Revenge, for every fucking second of her pain since he had violated her, taken what wasn't his; her choice, her body, her virginity.

Sookie remembered look in Gran's eyes, the crushing guilt and hot pain and failure, whenever the older woman thought about her brother's actions. Gran wouldn't have approved of bloodshed, not at all, but she would have understood, maybe. Gran was all about necessary things, and it felt necessary.

The word caught in her brain. _Necessary_. If she killed Bartlett, he would become even more significant. His victory would be crafted by her own rage and offensive self-preservation. He would be gone but he would win. Murderous rage and defiance clashed painfully in her mind, sparks of rage and protest shooting through her body.

Overwhelmed, Sookie simply _reacted_.

The coiled muscles in her legs sprang, sending her flying out of the chair as she took off blindly, legs carrying her away from the funeral. Dimly, she heard gasps and whispers but it was drowned out by the rapid thumping of her heart. Her heels plunged down into the mud and ripped back out of it with every step.

She didn't stop - couldn't stop - crazed and hunted, she _needed_ to keep running -

"Sookie! Sookie, wait!"

The voice hit her ears, muffled and distorted beyond recognition by her blind panic.

Sookie was athletic and swift, adrenaline numbing her to the pain shooting up her legs and the insistant pinch of her heels, but whoever chased her was fast as well. A strong hand grabbed her arm - and the wild emotions exploded within Sookie, lashing out instinctively -

A pained shout dispelled the red haze around her vision. Her wild, dark eyes focused, and she found herself deep in the graveyard, far from the funeral, surrounded by headstones. She felt hot and flushed and icy cold all at the same time. Her body was wound tightly, there was hot liquid on her fist, and Jason was on the floor, shock and hurt in his face, blood gushing eagerly from his mouth, staining the grass red.

Realization clicked together in Sookie's head with a snap, and she swayed under the weight of cold horror.

"Jason," she whispered, unable to believe what she had done. Spilt her own blood when there was already so much on her kitchen floor, and she could still feel the wet, heat of it on her skin.

Blood. Skin. Memory flashed - forceful hands, throat raw from screaming, head cracking against the floor, pain flaring, pretty white dress going up, up, up - _stop, no, stop - please - _

Uncle Bartlett. _Gran_.

She wanted Gran. She needed Gran.

Sookie started to cry, harsh, broken sobs, without shame or dignity.

Pushing off the floor, Jason reached for her uncertainly, pain livid in his - hers, Gran's - brown eyes but Sookie recoiled fearfully from his touch, shaking her head wildly, staggering away. She couldn't bare touch while vulnerable.

"No, no, _no_ - " she chanted mindlessly, continuing to shy away anxiously though he made no other move toward her.

"Sookie..." Jason said, pain thickening his voice.

"You _invited_ Uncle Bartlett," Sookie snarled, a keen quality of agony to her voice. Lies, lies, lies. It was an old instinct to hide the actual cause of her pain. Uncle Bartlett was nothing, a straw to break the camel's back - rage and fear and so much horror - but Gran was gone, and that mattered so much more.

Jason's face was slick with sweat and flushed from the sun, blood dripping from his mouth to stain his rumbled white shirt. His expression was contorted with pain and confusion. "He has a right to be here!"

A searing, seething rage broiled through Sookie. It was reckless and cruel, urging her to lash out at her brother with words in the shape of knives. It twisted her something fierce to hear him defend Bartlett but Gran was too vivid in her mind for Sookie to follow through with the impulse.

"The only right he has is to _burn in Hell_!" Sookie snapped, raw with emotion. The anger was pale and fickle in comparison to the hot, hungry licks of writhing agony that ravaged her heart.

"I know he and Gran had their problems, but in the end, we're family!" Jason said fervently. Sookie felt her knees weakening, stomach swishing with revulsion as her brother called Bartlett family. She felt her skin crawling over her muscles - dirty and unclean.

"You have no idea - " she cut herself off, sounding hoarse and choked. "_You_ are my family! _Gran_ is my family! _He_ is a piece of shit!"

As hot as hers, Jason's temper flared in his eyes, "Gran's gone!"

Jason's face went very pale, slackening with horror at the brutal truth that stabbed through the air and hung heavily over them. The silence crashed over them for a long moment, unbearably heavy.

Sookie had said the words herself before but it felt different from Jason. She stood still, a numb haze blanketing over her as she tottered on the edge of a knife, swaying from side to side. It made her dizzy, but she made one last lunge for indifference.

"I know," Sookie said flatly, slumping her posture and arching an eyebrow sardonically. "I _was _the one to find her body, remember, Jason? Hell, I had a meet and greet with the blood."

Jason stared at her, brow furrowed - anger flashed over his face - and then his expression was changed by soft realization. He sniffled, blinking rapidly, pointing back in the direction of the funeral. "They're burying Gran today, Sookie."

She felt herself begin to unravel, reality slackening its grip on her.

"Jason," she said in a voice that was eeirely calm. "Shut the _fuck_ up."

Jason shook his head, eyes fixed on her. "No. You and me, Sookie - we're all we've got now." He moved closer to her, hesitating, face tight with pain. "We ain't ever gonna see Gran again because some evil son of a _bitch_ killed her."

The words felt like a killing blow, slicing cleanly through the last string tying Sookie to the world. It felt like falling into the deep, dark unknown, blackness rushing up over her head. It was grief, it was madness, it was empty. The world tilted off its axles - _Gran was dead _- and then crashed back down.

The thunderous intensity of all her bottled up emotions bursting free tore a strained, choked noise from her throat. Sookie crumpled, legs buckling under the weight of it all. A pair of arms caught her, clutching her close. Her eyes burned, and she clung instinctively to her brother, unable to stand or think.

Despair overwhelmed her, tides of rage and pain and fear hailed down on her, and she sobbed, gasping hysterically for air. A hand clumsy with panic stroked her back, and Jason shook with her - his voice flickered through her ears like a bad radio connection - "I shoulda been there - I shoulda been there - "

Jason was crying. The knowledge fuelled Sookie's agony, arms locking around his back in a instinctive attempt to console him, but her mind was stuck on a loop. Behind her eyelids, flashes of memory launched a blitz attack on her sanity - Gran, surrounded by dark red - the unnatural mask of terror twisting her loving face - blood - blood - blood -

And no Eric to haul her back from the edge.

Like a vice, Jason's arms squeezed around her, kissing her hair forcefully - _Sookie?_

That caught her attention. No one had intentionally called to her in their head before, and then Jason's wrist deliberately brushed the back of her neck, sending her tumbling into his mind.

He was remembering Gran. He was remembering rushed school mornings, trying to grab all of his stuff with Gran's help as Sookie teased him - her own smile flared wickedly in her head - and Gran laughed at something she'd said, love shining in her eyes - then he remembered the night their parents had died - the soft, soothing crone of Gran's voice as she sang _Hey Jude, _tucking them in - a simple Sunday dinner after church with a rarely smiling Hadley -

Sookie began to breathe again, slow and gasping, and Jason pressed his face into her hair.

* * *

><p>It took ten minutes of snarky put-downs before Jason agreed to go back to Gran's funeral.<p>

"You go play the dutiful grandson, and I'll be - well, I'll just be myself," Sookie tossed over her shoulder, fleeing the scene. "And _maybe_ I'll forget that you have the swing of a five-year-old girl."

In the wake of her embarrassing breakdown, she felt less blood-boiling rage about that little incident. The ball-crushing would have to wait until Jason angered her again. But she could hardly talk, could she? She had actually hit her brother.

Sookie walked home to find JB standing on her porch. She was too emotionally ravaged to care much for the girlish flutter in her gut at the sight of his tall, handsome form.

"Stalking me?" she called to him dryly. The redness had cleared from her eyes on her walk. She had released her hair from its bun, leaving it to tumble down her shoulders in waves of gold. Her heels were caked with mud, and her legs were splattered with flecks of it.

"How was your run?" JB deflected like a total amateur. Still terrible at lying.

"It sucked," Sookie answered frankly, climbing her porch. She walked around him, sensing him turn to follow her as she leaned casually against the railing, cocking an eyebrow. "How was yours?"

It took JB a second to realize what she was talking about - his move from Bon Temps to Monroe. "Long."

Sookie's lips twitched in a smirk and she attempted to look coyly up at him. "Hard?"

It was one of her worst digs but it made JB smile - a bright flash of white teeth that threw her back some. "Christ," he muttered, voicing her thoughts almost exactly. His cinnamon brown eyes looked at her intently. "I've missed you so much, Sookie."

Before they had been skirting around third base in the backseat of his car, she and JB had been real close. JB was self-aware enough to know how much he sucked at lying, so he was honest and laid-back, unlike most of the people she met. It had been an odd friendship but a pleasant one.

Sookie felt herself aching over as she looked across at JB, his hair lit ash-bright in the fading sun.

JB looked at her for a moment, a thought hovering between them, a history, and then he averted his eyes to her drive. "Even that," he said quietly.

"My driveway?" she arched a single eyebrow. "Oh, _goddamnit_. Did somebody slip you a roofie?"

JB's head swivelled around to look at her, far from amused, but he refrained from commenting. Instead he eyed her. "Do you want me to go?"

Sookie didn't want to deal with his veiled sympathy and the faded memories of their relationship, of the dizzy madness in her younger years when she said yes to him; of him _asking_. She wanted to curl up somewhere quiet and dark until she felt less vulnerable and raw. Until Bartlett was out of Bon Temps, far away from her. But there was a faint tie between them still, and she didn't want this to be it with JB.

But she thought that maybe this _needed_ to be it.

"Yeah," she said, flashing him a brutal bloodied grin.

And JB's face _hurt_ - the swipe visibly slashing through him where he (where _she_, even now) was raw to this, to their history, and knocking the breath from him. He stuttered out an exhale, ducking his head and nodding as though he should have expected that.

"Yeah," he repeated, snorting bitterly.

"Hey, I'm _all_ about honesty, JB," Sookie told him, spreading her arms wide. She ducked her head, feigned condescension in her face as she looked all the way up at him like she'd never - like _they_ had never - "And _that's_ all that _really_ matters."

_Not this_, echoed in JB's head: _Not you_.

And Sookie almost reached out, almost curled her hand around his wrist - hot skin to hot skin, his pulse stuttering against her palm, as she said _no_, and she almost told him _no, not ever_ and almost, always, _always_ almost, _I fell in love with you when I was a fourteen._

"Of course, it is," said JB blankly. He pushed off the railing, avoiding her gaze. "I should get out of your hair, then."

Sookie watched as JB turned his back, climbing down the porch steps and walked down her drive to where his car was probably parked.

Her knuckles, slowly, whitened on the railings, but as Sookie Stackhouse watched history repeating itself, she locked her jaw and said nothing at all.

* * *

><p>Sookie drew her knees to her chest, head lolling back against the tub, damp golden hair laying over her shoulders. Steam rose from the clear, hot water, misting up the bathroom mirror. The door was locked securely.<p>

Staring up at the ceiling, she thought back to the funeral. Uncle Bartlett was in town. Her skin crawled with distaste, and her stomach knotted up with stress. She hated the thought of him being in Bon Temps with every inch of her being. A niggling insecurity writhed under her skin. Sookie knew how to act in a fight. She was wryly strong, quick and fierce. She knew how to take care of herself but she felt even less safe than she usually did.

All because of a decrepit old man in a goddamned wheelchair.

She wanted to be mad at Jason for inviting him, but her brother was, once again, clueless, and that was on her. Gran had offered to tell him but the idea was unbearable to Sookie. It struck her in the chest that now, she was the only person who knew.

"Fuck," she declared quietly, stretching her legs out, lifting her head to observe the way her skin glistened like gold in the water.

A small part of her wanted to tell someone but most of her was desperate to bury the truth deep.

"I need to stop thinking about this," she sighed, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling. "And I _really_ need to stop talking to myself."

In the end, she should be more concerned about how easy she found it to seriously consider killing Bartlett. Sure, he deserved it like _whoa_ and she would probably be able to get away with it but she wasn't going to sink that low because of him.

Not when Gran's killer deserved it so much more.

Sookie finished up in the bathroom, automatically applying moisturizing cream before changing into loose white shorts and a black camisole and sitting at the dressing table to towel her hair dry.

Her eyes caught on the lilies on her bedside table, and her mouth curled up into a wicked, naughty smirk. A familiar flame ignited in her eyes.

She grabbed her cell, scrolled down until she found Eric's cell number, and texted him - _34C._

An hour later, there was a brisk, commanding knock on the door. Sookie opened the door to find Eric looming on her porch in a pair of dark jeans and a dark tank top, hands clasped behind his back, a crackling air of power about him.

He was, Sookie suspected, faintly amused.

Which was good. She stood less of a chance against Eric than the three werewolves had, and she had a feeling offending him was more dangerous than trying (and almost certainly, failing) to kill him.

"Am I to presume that was an invitation to see for myself?" Eric arched an eyebrow smoothly at her.

"I think actually following through would ruin my reputation as a tease," she retorted, leaning against the doorway and flashing him a playful grin.

"Indeed," Eric rumbled, cool blue eyes dropping to the figure with obvious appreciation. She was wearing a bra but her camisole was on the skimpy side, exposing generous cleavage and nearly all of her shoulders. His gaze made her stomach flutter slightly. "You are telling the truth."

"That does seem to be an unfortunate habit of mine," she remarked flippantly, rolling her body to the side and gesturing her head in a silent invitation. Eric accepted. He walked into her house with an arrogant swagger to his movements, big form brushing past her. He paused in the hall, studying his surroundings.

"You have not rescinded my invitation," Eric observed. He didn't sound surprise or pleased, it seemed to be a simple statement. Sookie could sense the inquiring note more than hear it.

"I don't know how," she said, testing the waters.

Eric's intent stare locked on her, containing traces of a stony glare - _try again_.

Sookie was unsure of how to feel about that. At the core, Eric wasn't a hugs-and-puppies kind of guy. If he knew her, it could prove dangerous for her. She was useful to him because of her telepathy but there was a downside to being useful - his interest was a great and terrible thing.

Eric knew she could throw a truly staggering punch. He knew she hated being grabbed. He knew she could read minds. He knew she loved her brother, and her Gran, and based on that, he knew where her weakness to manipulation lied - Jason, Tara, Lafayette, Dawson, JB, Terry, Hoyt, Arlene and her kids.

(Sam.)

But he didn't know that while she couldn't read vampire minds, she could pick up on them. There were some tricks up her sleeve. It was best to be open about the big stuff, so he thought of her as slightly naive but intelligent and never looked that close.

On the other hand, it as almost... nice for someone to not immediately write her off as ridiculous or crazy.

"Alright, _fine_." Despite her morbid thoughts, Sookie's grin was genuine. "I do know how but I figured if you ever decided to kill me, it wouldn't be here."

It would be a quick spur-of-the-moment thing prompted by her tragically stupid determination not to bend for anybody ever again. An invitation into her home would be irrelevant.

As she thought this, Sookie walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying to avoid thinking of the last time the old vampire had been in her kitchen. Eric followed her, footsteps silent and impressively stealthy for such a big man.

"So you have considered the dangers in our association," he said, dark voice drilling into her ears like the crisp turning of a page or the sound of a sharpening blade. It was impossible to ignore Eric, and he knew it. There was a hint of threat in his voice. "I hope for your sake you are not reconsidering my business proposal, Miss Stackhouse."

Sookie looked at him drolly, expressive face reflecting the lack of truth in his assumption. "I'm a lot of things, Eric - brown-eyed, a C cup, sarcastic, telepathic, offensively honest _and_ reasonably realistic." As she listed off her personality traits, she tilted her head from side to side, a lively flare in her dark eyes. "But I ain't _that_ blonde."

Teeth flashing in a cheeky grin, she held up a bottle of True Blood Gran had left over from the DGD meeting and put it back down again when she saw distaste in Eric's expression. She paused, canting her head with curiosity. "What does this taste like to you?"

"It's vile and metallic," Eric explained disdainfully as she closed the fridge. A sinister hunger darkened his eyes. "Nothing compared to actual blood. You smell...particularly sweet. It has been a while since I have eaten as you do," he continued, eyeing her with a more dangerous lust. "There is little I can compare it to."

"Yeah, I'm so not offering a taste testing course," Sookie rebuffed him, crossing her arms over her chest. It was not a vulnerable gesture so much as a firm one, though the smile quirking the corners of her mouth showed her overall good humor.

The threatening hunger remained in Eric's eyes but the towering blonde vampire smirked down at her and looked her over leisurely. "Pity," he remarked. "Though I am not certain such a brief experience could satisfy us both."

Sookie flashed him a look, amused and sensual in the same breath before she sobered up, moving closer to him, tilting her head back to look up into his pale, handsome face and asked bluntly, "Do you kill the people you feed from?"

Dawson had told her that vampires killed every single one of their victims but considering the source and how illogical that sounded, Sookie was skeptical. Of course, if he did, she doubted Eric would tell her so.

Eric arched an eyebrow down at her, lowering for her. He looked so out of place in her tiny dainty kitchen, and the flare of mischievous amusement that flitted across his stony expression seemed to reinforce this rather than debunk it. Something fluttered low in her gut at his close proximity.

"Very few vampires kill those they feed from since we have gone public though there are always incidents with baby vampires." Eric looked down at her, cool mockery in his face, a blaze in his blue eyes. "Don't you listen to the pretty blonde vampire lady on television?"

Sookie narrowed her eyes at him, smiling with sardonic tightness. "No, sadly, I have an allergy to bullshit."

The distance between their faces shortened to a few scant inches. It was unnerving to see Eric so close, knowing what he could do to her but she wasn't afraid. Intimidated, perhaps, and attracted by how devastatingly handsome he was but unafraid. The flutter grew stronger. "Is that so? What did you do to your hand?"

Surprised, Sookie broke from Eric's intense, piercing stare and looked down at her hand. Her knuckles were bruised, one of them was newly split. There was a stiffness to her fingers that she was used to blocking out. A lock of blonde hair fell over her face, brushing across her cheekbone as she lifted her head, and found herself caught in his gaze.

"You own a bar." Sookie shrugged. "You know how people get when they're drunk, scummy and all for molesting the bouncy blonde waitress." She sighed dramatically and reminded him, "_Besides_ I've been having a busy week between the drainers and those werewolf BFFs."

"You are unusually possessive of your personal space for a human," Eric stated, capturing her hand to be contrary.

His long fingers curled easily around her wrist, palm rough and callused against her skin in a way that made Sookie feel an intense fizzle of heat in her blood. Her heart stuttered slightly, torn between a twinge of anxiety and arousal.

"Unusual is my MO," she said in an overly grave tone before cracking her facade with another smile. She didn't try to pull away from his grip, knowing he wouldn't let go until he felt like it. Being held against her will, however loosely, would make her panic. "So do you?"

Eric was quick, figuring out she was referring to his somewhat deflected question about killing his food source. "I have better uses for my time than disposing of dead fangbangers," he said dismissively.

"And you're smarter than that," Sookie said in a matter-of-fact tone. It was something they both understood about each other - neither was an idiot. It was like respect but not quite there yet. Still considering his human-hating tendencies and her jerk-hating morals, it was darn impressive.

"Yes," he said simply, acknowledging the little understanding between them without too much ego.

The rough pad of his thumb stroked down the vein in her wrist, and her pulse stuttered from something between wariness and arousal. Eric smirked significantly but Sookie didn't rise to her own defense. She was attracted to him but he was attracted to her just the same.

A purr rumbled darkly in Eric's broad chest, thumb resting on her vein, not pressing down but monitoring her heartbeat which was slightly erratic. His cool blue eyes dropped to her chest, watching the pull of her tank over the curves of her breasts with every breath.

"Are you certain that wasn't an invitation?" he said in a low voice, blue eyes glinting with an animalistic desire - to fuck and feed. It appealed to her on a deep level, the animal part of her brain responding to him, and she felt her body responding to his voice, a hot coil tightened in her stomach.

"As much as I admire your hands on approach, my dearest vampire," Sookie said, dark eyes burning wickedly, "I have to wonder - don't you have better uses for your time than my breasts?"

"There is one thing that holds more interested to me," Eric revealed suggestively, cool blue eyes sweeping down her figure, striking her clean to the core with his intense stare. Her stomach swooped, an odd rush shooting up her spine.

"It wasn't an invitation," Sookie told him. A different heat simmered in her large, dark eyes. "I wanted to thank you for the flowers."

Eric seemed to realize she was pulling back from their flirtatious banter, but his cool eyes drilled relentlessly into her, and she did not look away. The look between them was long and unexpectedly intimate due to their combined intensity. His thumb stroked her pulse point one last time, the scrap of his skin against hers shortened her breath, before he released her.

"You're welcome," he said simply, darkness lingering in his eyes. "Read the contract," he told her, causing her to blink in faint surprise as she remembered the contract he had given her on her porch two days ago. "Take care, my tiny human."

Eric lowered his head to breach the few inches between them and pressed a parting kiss to her cheek, stubble rasping teasing against her skin in a way that made her stomach clench again. Then Eric zipped away, door closing abruptly behind him.

For a moment, Sookie stood in her kitchen, an electrical tension in her limbs. He hadn't asked about the funeral or how she was doing. Most people would be upset by his disinterest but she gave a small, wane smile.

* * *

><p>Sookie went into Merlotte's early the next morning, early enough to dodge Arlene and Tara and even Lala who was the only other fucking person in Louisiana to understand the joys of not talking about <em>everything<em>. She holed herself up in Sam's office and went over his books, filtering calmly through pages and pages of information, black ink on white paper.

Nothing red but the twist of Sookie's own lips.

She did, however, venture out into the actual dining area for the lunch time rush.

There was a brief hush when Sookie stepped into the room, tables falling silent as everyone looked at her, minds humming with activity for the first time in the history of _ever_ - and Sookie folded one ankles over the other, dipping into a curtsy, mouth twisting forcibly sardonic.

In one snap movement, everyone looked away, necks almost snapping with whiplash. Whispers broke out _faster_ than the plague. _Of course_, Sookie thought bitterly, eyes sweeping over the room -

And, to her surprise, noticed a new face.

It wouldn't be hyperbole to say that everyone in Bon Temps knew each other on sight at the very least. Everyone had grown up on top of each other, had shared a town and a space with from cradle to coffin. People didn't come to Bon Temps, and people didn't _leave_ Bon Temps.

The last newcomer had been Sam Merlotte seven years ago.

"Hey," said Sookie, hitching her mouth up in a smile as she went towards the woman. She was dark-haired and pale-eyed with a sharp, classical sort of beauty. "Have you been served yet?"

"Not yet," she said, smiling at Sookie. Her teeth were very even and very white; very well taken care of, unlike Sookie's own teeth. "I'm afraid I've never been to this establishment before. Everything looks so good. What would you recommend?"

"I'm contractually obligated to say everything," Sookie said brightly, scanning the woman's mind briefly. It crackled with a strange sort of energy, contained and well-leashed, reeled in and ready to be set loose. "But if I were in your place, I'd try the soup of the day, uh - what's your name, darlin'?"

"The soup of the day it is," she said, closing her menu. Her smile widened as she looked back up at Sookie, cool blue eyes glittering with a smug satisfaction."I'm Maryann Forrester. What's your name?"

"Sookie Stackhouse."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>As the day wore on, Sookie ended up juggling three different responsibilities. After the telepath finished delivering the huge amount of food Maryann ordered, Tara asked for the night off for her mama's exorcism, and Sookie had a choice between getting into one of their infamous arguments (with much bloodshed) or agreeing to Tara's pleading eyes.<p>

Between waiting tables and doing a quick check-up on receipts, she tried to call in their back-up bartender, Lisa, but Lisa was out of state which Sam hadn't bothered to tell her. In the end, Sookie was forced to put John, Lafayette's extra pair of hands, on the bar with Terry, leaving Lafayette to man the kitchen by himself.

Lafayette would've been a better bartender with his general awesomeness but he insisted it would mess with his flow.

"Who am I to even dream of messin' with your flow?" she laughed playfully.

It wasn't a busy night but considering Arlene was running late, she ended up managing both of their sections with a skip in her stride, a quip to her lips and a sway to her hips. She was pinning up another order, mouthing along with the song pouring out of the juke box when the doors swung open with a force.

Mind flitting to Jason, her head turned automatically. Four rednecks strolled into a bar, just looking to get their asses kicked for the second time by implying her friend had AIDS. Sookie felt a flare of anger, dark eyes searching instinctively for Lala's reaction.

Perhaps feeling her gaze, Lafayette looked up and his eyes fell on the rednecks as they sat down at a table. A rare emotion flitted across his kind face; anger. Lafayette was pretty laid-back but he wasn't without temper, and that temper had been triggered.

"Oh hell no. Not in _my_ damn bar," Lafayette muttered, stalking out of the kitchen, and Sookie intercepted him.

"Hey," she said warningly, smile turning into a grin, "Are you trying to poach my boxing title right out from under me?"

"_This_ brand of stupid ain't your problem. Move outta the way, Sook," Lafayette replied, looking over her shoulder at the rednecks.

Sookie sobered. She, Lafayette and Tara were all outcasts, too damn stubborn to even think about altering to fit in better. Why should they have to change when there wasn't a damn thing wrong with them? That was the logic but being called on their supposed oddity was a hot spot for them all.

Most people would never admit to being beaten up by a tiny blonde girl, especially in the South where racism and sexism ran ruthlessly through every generation, but even so, Sookie never hit anyone without a reason. If someone groped her or grabbed her, then she replied with a threat of her own but if someone made lewd remarks, she stuck to insults. She rarely started a brawl, and she had never been arrested.

Shame might keep the rednecks from running to the police if Lafayette, a homosexual man, beat them up but the risk worried Sookie.

"The biggest problem with small-dicked rednecks is that more often then not - they're cowards. If you hulk out on them, they'll go runnin' to the police."

With every word, she had been guiding her friend backwards into the kitchen with his reluctance permission. Lafayette's eyes flickered darkly through the hole in the wall but he was too smart not to see the sense in her words.

"Somebody outta smack some sense into those fools," he grumbled. "The whole damn _town_ of crazy motherfuckers..."

The warmth flooded back into Sookie's expression, her grip softened on his shoulders. "Hey, think of it this way - when the beer starts flowing, they might make a play for the pretty blonde waitress who is oh-so-distraught by recent events that she needs a - "

"A _fabulous_ knight in leopard print to beat those crackers down?" Lafayette finished, amusement simmering in his dark eyes.

"I _am_ such a delicate Southern Belle," Sookie demured coyly, her own dark eyes smouldering playfully at him like bedroom eyes.

"You _is_ a pornolicious bitch," he countered wickedly, crooking a finger at her with feigned sensuality. "Come give Lala some sugar."

A mischievous grin curved her red lips as she offered her cheek to Lafayette, who curled his arms around her waist and dipped her like a pro, placing a chaste kiss to her cheek that was at odds with his flamboyant actions. Sookie laughed, delighted amusement bubbling out of her mouth before she headed back to work.

Twenty minutes later, she was forced to dodge one of the rednecks who sprang out of his chair with a loud yelp of pain, spitting soup over the floor.

"Jesus," she exclaimed, startled by the sudden movement. Derision darkened her voice when his head swung around, eyes flickering between her and Lafayette, who was looking through the ceil with a smirk. "Did you try to breath and think at the same time?"

* * *

><p>Eric settled down in his office chair, observing the glazed-eyed blonde man sitting across from him with open distaste. Jason Stackhouse was a mere notch above the disgusting vermin who threw themselves at his feet in his esteem, and that notch had more to do with his hellcat sister than the boy himself.<p>

The very sister Stackhouse would have struck had he not intervened. Between attempting to harm his tiny human and the vampire blood Eric could smell in his system, the boy would never know how lucky he was to have survived that night.

It was a curiosity that Stackhouse could be glamored while Sookie seemed oblivious to the attempt. The possibility of his spitfire being adopted was seeming more and more feasible with every regrettable moment spent with the useless bloodbag sitting across from him. Though he had come across no documents to support his theory and Stackhouse denied it, citing a memory of his sister's birth as proof. There was also faint similarity in scent.

Sookie's blood was far more exquisite and vivid, and her wit was certainly sharper. So far he had found few shared traits between the siblings. Their physical beauty was grant. Stackhouse seemed reasonably well-built for a man of this weak century, and Sookie's form was shapely from a combination of wry muscle and curves that would one day - soon - know his touch.

Pam was beginning to notice his visits to the wicked blonde telepath. His perceptive progeny would see through his excuses about gathering information on the telepath within time but he had no intentions of altering his behaviour.

He enjoyed her quick-witted humor and fierce bravery and wild, dark eyes. It was a disgusting yet intriguing concept: his liking for her was equal to his lust. However, his private thoughts were irrelevant and under control.

"Who supplied you with the vampire blood in your system?"

"Lafayette Reynolds," Stackhouse answered in the altered tone of the glamoured.

Eric made a note to find and haul the man in for questioning. "Do you know how he obtains his product?"

"I have no idea," he answered with a spectacularly stupid look upon his face.

"That is obvious," Eric stated coldly before continuing with his line of questioning. "Tell me the quickest way to locate Mister Reynolds."

Pam would appreciate the lack of leg work.

"He works in Merlotte's most nights," Stackhouse responded.

Arching an eyebrow, Eric considered that for a moment. He knew little of Lafayette Reynolds, merely what the boy had told him and his relation to the angry black woman, Tara, who Sookie was close to. The new knowledge was unwelcome.

The shifter was comatosed under a heavy guard of werewolves from Tray Dawson's pack and officers of law enforcement, Compton had more chance of winning Pam's favor than Sookie's, but Lafayette Reynolds could be a problem if his tiny human was unaware of the man's dealings.

Unless a dealer drained a vampire for blood or caught him at the wrong moment, Eric usually refrained from causing fatal harm but if Reynolds was a suitor of Sookie Stackhouse's, he would have to arrange special treatment - such as two weeks in his dungeon until the human decided a change of location and profession was in order.

"What is the relationship between Sookie Stackhouse and Lafayette Reynolds?"

"They ain't together," Stackhouse said dreamily. "They've been friends almost as long as Sookie and Tara. None of 'em fit with anybody else..."

That did not come as a surprise to Eric. As he had told her while she looked even more fuckable than usual with wolf blood on her hands, lips flushed from his own and a heat in her eyes, she was better than those humans. Perhaps better than all humans, but _that_ was hardly a challenge.

"Explain," he barked. It was best to have as much information on those she surrounded herself with as possible.

"Tara has a drunk mama and Lafayette's gay."

The V dealer was homosexual then. Perhaps a single week would do.

"Do you have any intent to harm a vampire?"

"No."

"Do you have any intent to harm your sister?"

"No."

It was a shame an addiction to vampire blood couldn't be glamoured out of a person. The buying and using of vampire blood were minor crimes but it was not something he was willing to ignore, though if he punished Stackhouse, there would be unfortunate complications.

However, if he let Sookie deal with her sibling's bad habits, it would punish Stackhouse and land Sookie in his debt. Perhaps he would save Lafayette Reynolds' fate as a bargaining chip in the future.

Decision made, Eric glamoured the last five minutes from Jason Stackhouse's feeble mind and allowed him to go back to Fangtasia's bar before re-claiming his throne among the writhing masses of a thousand disgusting things. Distaste and boredom settled in his mind.

The placid nature of his existance was driving him to the brink of madness. He had never been particularly fond of human beings before the Revelation but his opinion had only worsened in the past two years. Before his mind could drift far, Pam appeared at his side.

Eric's attention was captured by the uncharacteristic gravity in his childe's mood. "What troubles you, Pam?"

"That snivelling coward accountant has something to stutter about," Pam said in Old Norse with a distasteful look at the breathers surrounding them.

"Important?" Eric asked, already dismissive until Pam responded.

"I believe so."

* * *

><p>The night carried on, and Sookie rolled with the punches, managing to get in quite a few snide shots at Royce, the leader of the rednecks, without any of them realising it. As predicted they were getting more and more creepy with every pitcher of beer, but Sookie was starting to get irritated enough that if one of the idiots did try to grab her, she might have to swing for them herself.<p>

Hearing them laugh drunkenly at her jokes wasn't half as amusing as watching them miss them by miles.

"How," Sookie began, directing her voice of deep contemplation to Lafayette as she dropped off another order, "Am I supposedly the stupid one in this town?"

Lafayette snorted, stirring the bubbling pot of chowder, looking over at her. "Because you is the stupid one, Sook."

"Hey, now, what happened to _pornolicious_?" she wanted to know with a quirk of her eyebrow, drawling out the word sweetly.

"All the crazy ones are pornolicious," Lafayette said in a tone of great wisdom. "They're all twisted and creative between the sheets, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"Not even a little bit," Sookie said cheerfully enough. Sometimes she felt all twisted up about her lack of sex life but today wasn't one of those days. She had bigger things to worry about, like Sam, Jason, Eric, the bar and not showing her hand when it came to Gran.

"That's cause you ain't let me hook you up with somebody," Lafayette drawled out with that fantastic flourish of his in the words.

Sookie leaned her elbows on the ceil, bending over slightly, quirking an eyebrow at him flirtatiously. "I'm already hooked up with myself."

Lafayette chuckled lecherously, and she smiled at the sound. No matter how much she joked or playfully flirted, she didn't feel comfortable really talking about sex with anyone by Lafayette. Sometimes it felt like he had seen and done all and accepted everything with a stunning grace. It was comforting.

"I heard that shit makes you go blind," he bantered back. At the same time, they said, voices overlapping, "But what a way to go."

The moment of friendship and amusement was ruined as the door was flung open with an attention-catching force. Sookie turned her head sharply and froze, adrenaline bursting through her veins in an anxious and fearful rush. It was the three vampires from Bill's place - the tall black woman, Diane, and the crazy-eyed bald one, and Malcolm, creepy and dark as ever.

A sense of alarm rippled around the bar. People trailed off sentances, Arlene stiffened, Lafayette stared at them with fear sparking deep in his eyes, the rednecks looked around with a dumb kind of curiosity.

"Well hey there," Diane purred, sex sleezing sickening through her voice as she prowled up to a terrified man with dark-hair, ducking her head to leer into his ear, "Sugar."

A sinster giggle left her mouth, a terrible mockery of amusement, at his discomfort.

"You," Malcolm said to John. "Get us three True Bloods."

Her heart thrummed fearfully in her chest but Sookie hardened herself to her emotions and straightened her spine, composed. She moved gracefully from the ceil into plain sight and said, "Hold your horses, Johnny boy."

Heads swivelled to where Sookie stood, golden hair glowing in its braid from the light, dark eyes glinting with a very strained light, an unworried expression hiding her true thoughts.

"Oh," Malcolm crowned, a sickly delight sparking in his dark eyes as he drew closer to her. "Hello there. Sookie, was it?"

"If I say no, will you fuck off?"

There were small sounds of shock and astonishment through the bar but Sookie's attention was focused on the blur of movement as Diane and the bald one crowded around her. Her stomach boiled with bile at the three hungry stares, fear pricking at her limbs, but she controlled her flinch and kept her face cool.

Eric was far more dangerous than these three could dream to be but he had a reason to keep her alive. They did not, and she was highly aware of that but she couldn't back down. Things were crazy and beyond her control, but this - her stupidity and bravery - she could control.

"How delightful," Malcolm drawled. "Still as spirited as ever, I see."

"_This_ is bullshit," said Sookie, rolling her wrist around in a circle to gesture around the whole bar. "I hate small talk." She slumped her posture, looking up at them through her eyelashes. "What do y'all really want?"

Malcolm played innocent. "Why, three True Bloods, of course."

_Die in a fire_, Sookie thought darkly, barely able to stop herself from ordering him to do so out loud.

His minions chucked and snickered, a stereotypical soundtrack to a scumbag full of sleeze.

"You ain't welcome here," the redneck - Royce - drawled, attracting the attention of three sneering vampires. He tried to stand up but Sookie shoved him back down into his seat without looking back.

"Yeah, well, neither are you, buddy," she muttered under her breath.

"You shouldn't be so harsh," Diane hissed in a husky voice at him. "We're official citizens of Lousiana, after all. The American Vampire League - "

"Would be _estatic_ to hear that some of their own have been terrorizing a small bar in the middle of nowhere in such a critical time, of course," Sookie said brightly, smiling sardonically.

She wasn't sure if the three had thought about that before or if they were intent on screwing with people anyway. Either way, it didn't surprise her when Diane let out a hyenas' cackle and the crazy-eyed one sniggered laddishly. Malcolm continued to stare at her with an unnerving glint in his eyes that made her feel filthy and exposed.

Like he was trying to decide what to do with her before he ripped her throat out.

"Mainstreaming's for pussies," the bald one jeered.

"How does a little girl like you know so much?" Malcolm purred.

"How does - " _a creepy bastard like you sleeze so much?_ popped into her head but before she could decide how to edit her thought, something happened.

Her cell phone rang, blurting out a cheery tune into the horrified silence that had fallen over the bar. Sookie felt her mouth pulling up into a slightly crazy grin at the startling contrast. Malcolm blinked slowly in surprise while Baldie and Diane traded dark looks. Casual as all hell, she dug her cell out of the tiny pocket in her uniform.

"We didn't say you could answer that," the bald one rumbled in a poor attempt at menacing.

"Wow, good thing I didn't ask then, wasn't it?" Sookie's eyes widened a fraction as she looked at her cell. The caller ID read _Eric Northman_.

It seemed like not only did he have the physical body of a god but also the timing of one.

"Which doesn't really matter either way, since I think it's for you," she finished, sounding as nonplussed and innocent as possible, offering the phone to Malcolm, who looked briefly puzzled before he seemed to come to some conclusion.

In a blur of movement, he snatched the cell from her and went to answer it. Then he caught sight of the caller ID and froze, strain tightening in his face. He made an effort of looking coldly amused and nonchalant but she could sense the tension rolling off his form. He was afraid of Eric, and trying to save face.

"Well, somebody has..._friends_ in high places," Malcolm drawled out, trying to save face. He thrust the cell phone at her, eyes glinting disturbingly. "Answer it."

Sookie held his gaze steadily, unwavering in her determination. "Leave."

Malcolm's eyes flared with fury, trying to bore into her head, trying to crush her will beneath his own. "Answer it."

"Leave," Sookie gritted out, echoing his force with her own ferocity. Malcolm growled at her lowly, angered by her refusal. He wasn't willing to back down in front of everybody but he seemed aware that unless she answered her cell and gave the Viking whatever he wanted, Eric would track her down - and he would be _pissed_.

Especially if she ended up dead if he wanted something from her.

"Or maybe I will answer it," she added, a threatening flourish hidden in her voice. "Isn't it his job to..._deal_," she drawled the word out, imitating the way Malcolm had said _friends_, "with little incidents like this?"

She tilted her head, giving him the Dumb Blonde look of curiosity.

"I ought to rip your throat out," the bald one growled at her, making as though to advance forward but Malcolm stopped him with a tut.

"Now, now, Liam. We _ought _to be polite to the locals - we just closed on a place up the road." His smile came thick like oil and twice as slick with nasty implications. "We're practically neighbours."

The cell phone cut off abruptly and then began to ring again.

"Looks like he's getting impatient," said Sookie with an icy note in her voice. Her heart beat in her chest, stomach clenching with panic and disgust at the thought of the three vampires nesting in Bon Temps. She needed to tell Eric - and Bill would have to be warned as well.

"We best be going then. Maybe I'll be visiting my good friend, Bill Compton," Malcolm added as an ineffective parting shot at Sookie but a ripple went through the bar. People would jump at the chance to use this against Bill, and maybe they wouldn't be totally out of line.

Diane cackled with laughter, and Liam leered at a blonde girl - Randi Sue or something - before the three of them headed for the door and left. Her cell continued to ring but she shoved it into her pocket and looked around the bar.

Everyone was staring at her, some with awe, some with pity. Terry's face was white but his cheeks were flushed red, a sheen of sweat on his face. He looked awful enough for her heavily veiled compassion to flare up hotly. She wasn't feeling too steady either. Adrenaline gushed through her veins, her mind span wildly, and she went with her usual method of dealing with things.

For once, public opinion was on Sookie's side and she used that as damage control for Sam's business.

"Anyone else need a beer?" she said, weaving an almost glib weariness in her voice. It wasn't hard. She could feel exhaustion stabbing at her mind but it was overshadowed by the buzz of frantic anxiety and stress. "Half price for everyone who thinks I should've closed the bar for another week or so until all this bad luck ran out."

Sookie ducked behind the bar as large groups of people went to the bar in serious need of a stiff drink. She bumped her hip lightly against Arlene's, who flinched violently out of her stunned, frozen state and stared at her with wide eyes, face white with horror.

"Sookie," Arlene said, trying and failing to smile. She was trembling with fear, freckles stark on her face.

"Take Terry back to Sam's office," Sookie told her, filling up a pitcher of beer for a clump of pale-faced college kids who thought that she was scary as shit and hot as hell. She pointed at her with mock warning, accepting the money one of the college kids silently shoved at her before taking the pitcher back to his table, "Be gentle with him."

"Yeah," Arlene agreed jerkily, moving jitterly from behind the bar and approaching Terry's frozen form with a kind, but wary, air.

"Don't ever ask me to cover for Tara again, Sookie," John grumbled as they served the masses.

"You only have yourself to blame," she called back from him. She felt her limbs and muscles begin to tremble as the adrenaline began to fade from her blood. Her dark eyes flickered to the doors, and she squared her jaw with determination. With one hand, she pulled her cell out and texted Bill a quick warning about Malcolm and his brood.

To Eric, she texted - _Shit hit the fan. Need to wash my hair. Can it wait til tomorrow?_

It took awhile before the crowd around the bar began to die off. Through a gap in the crowd, Sookie saw Royce and his rednecks talking and gesturing. The atmosphere in the bar was bad and very anti-vampire. People were pissed and scared and drunk, filled with false, deadly bravery.

If someone planned to do something, it would be during daylight hours. The bar closed at one in the morning.

"Do me a favor?" Sookie said to Rene, who hovered close to her at the bar, drinking from his mug of beer heavily.

"Sure, Sook. What ya need?"

"Keep an eye on those idiots, make sure they don't get themselves liquefied," she said, tempted to add a joke about bodies around the bar but that made her think about Sam. When - _not_ if, no matter what the doctors said - he woke up, there would be one hell of a story to tell.

From them both.

Her main focus was on surviving the day-to-day things but it had crossed her mind that Sam must have seen the killer. The monster who killed her grandmother and left him in a puddle of blood for her to find.

A raging fire of fury broiled under her skin, lava hot and deadly with its hardened simplicity - an unquestionably murderous undertone.

"Big favor," Rene grinned at her, white teeth flashing. Sookie smirked back, the motion more practiced than it had ever been before.

Gossip was gold in Bon Temps, she mused as she left John to return to her actual job as a waitress. It would be easy to give into anger and blame someone for what happened to Gran. If Arlene had kept her mouth shut, if Sam had kept her personal life from becoming bar talk, if Bill had never come to Bon Temps, if she had let Bill die or came home earlier or listened to Tara about Bill instead of trying to be fair.

Gran wouldn't have blamed anybody but the man who hurt her, and Sookie couldn't ignore what she knew Gran would've wanted. Her life was so wrong without Gran in it. It was wrong to wake up in an empty house. It was wrong to sleep in Gran's bed, searching for the scent of her perfume that calmed the frightened child in Sookie's head like nothing else.

All because of a bunch of actions that lead to one man reacting and taking one of the last genuinely good people in the world away.

How long would it have been before the killer started killing everyone with a difference? Like Crazy Sookie Stackhouse, or Tara, or Lafayette.

_How long until he comes after me again_? she wondered with a dulled acceptance. She should be frightened but instead, she felt...

A dark, slivering wrath blackened Sookie's heart. Something evil and utterly furious moved through her, alarming her with its inhumanity.

There was a limitless, wild rage in the pit of her stomach, burning long and steady, without an ounce of compassion or mercy.

When the time came, Sookie would defend herself and those she loved fiercely.

* * *

><p>Sookie locked her front door behind herself with a click, and leaned back against it. She closed her eyes and breathed in. Tina meowed and padded out of the kitchen to nuzzle her ankles adoringly. The soft brush of fur against her bare skin tickled, bring a smile to Sookie's face.<p>

"Hey there," she said, scooping the gray cat up into her arms and walking back into the kitchen with her. She fed Tina before gulping down a glass of cold water.

All the windows were locked tightly. It was lucky Tina was more of an indoors cat because Sookie wasn't comfortable leaving any possible entry in the house open, and she hated the thought of letting Tina roam around outside in case something happened to her. These days, that was far more likely than the possiblity of rain.

Despite herself, Sookie found her thoughts flickering to her brother. She was glad he'd had the sense to stay away from her today. After this morning, his questions were inevitable, and there was already too much shit in her life without having to dodge Jason's questions about what she'd let slip.

She wasn't ready for Jason to know - for anybody to know.

It would change how people looked at her, like a poor little victim and not a person.

Her phone buzzed. Assuming it was from Bill, Sookie sighed and checked the message.

_Upstairs, E._

Sookie stiffened, paying a sliver of attention the the choas swirling around her ears. If she paid too much attention, all of Bon Temps would be in her head. There was one void mind within five miles. Bill wasn't home, and Eric was upstairs in her bathroom.

Her weariness from a double shift and vampire-baiting was replaced by a bubbling amusement. Listening with her ears, she picked up the faint, soothing sound of music.

"What, no kiss?" Sookie asked the ceiling mockingly. She headed for the stairs, braid bouncing against her back with every step. "Gosh, Eric, it's almost like you _don't_ care about my feelings."

She followed the music to her bathroom and froze in the doorway. Her heart smacked against her ribcage twice, staggering at the sight that greeted her wide eyes. Eric was in her bathtub, long, muscular limbs overflowing in a way that was anything but amusing. His legs were propped up at the top egde of the tub and his head was resting against the opposite edge of the tub where he could see the door better.

The water was cloudy enough to conceal much from her eyes but Eric Northman was naked in her bathroom, arms thick with muscle glistening with droplets of water resting against the sides of the tub, blonde hair glowing faintly in the light.

She had never truly been able to appreciate how _extremely_ well build he was. It seemed almost unreal.

Within an instant, the shock turned into a violently charged lust that shot down her spine and coiled low in her stomach.

"One day, I will fuck you into a quivering mass of _speechless _pleasure on every single surface in this house," Eric promised in a dark rumble of a voice that scraped over her nerves like rough stubble on smooth skin, like sex. His blue eyes peeled open and stared at her with a hungry intensity. "Now that I have stroked your ego, join me," he suggested, a rasp to his voice.

It was incredibly tempting to do just that. Not simply because Eric _had_ to be one of the most beautiful men to ever exist, but she felt even more reckless than ever before.

"I have a strict policy about not sleeping with men who would eat me alive literally _and_ metaporically," Sookie said, missing dry by a few marks. "Which I'm pretty set on keeping, even against you my dearest vampire."

Eric looked at her, amusement curling in his eyes, ancient and mischievous, though a darkness lurked in his eyes like a caged beast. He was impatient in his want for her but unlike she had with Malcolm's stare, she didn't feel threatened. Eric was a ruthless killer of thousands but he was unquestionably better than those vampires.

"You will yield to me eventually," he rumbled, sounding both unconcerned and impatient for that day.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kind of unyielding," said Sookie.

A smirk curved the corners of his pale pink lips as she watched him from the doorway. Deciding to do something, she closed the door and approached the tub.

"Since you're in the way, I guess I'll just have to wash your hair."

Eric stared at her, cool blue blazing up at her intensely before he came to a conclusion. His wrist twirled in a graceful movement of inclination and closed his eyes. "Very well, my tiny human."

While Sookie hadn't expected him to take her up on the offer, she wasn't one to back down. The blonde telepath sat on the counter connected to the large (but not Viking sized) bathtub, folding her legs under her.

* * *

><p><strong>I love cliffhangers of every kind, and you must agree this is far kinder than the last few I dealt you - even if this chapter is far lacking in quality. I have no idea what happened with that, I swear. <strong>

**Thoughts on the Eric POV, please?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>After dampening Eric's blonde hair to the darkened color of tarnished gold, Sookie perused a selection of her shampoos. She used a wickedly sweet scented shampoo, like roses and wildflowers with the hint of sharp citrus to it but that would obviously be unacceptable, despite her amusement over the idea.<p>

Eric cracked a cool blue eye open, catching sight of her amusement expression. His broad impressive shoulders glistened with droplets of water, and his hair was plasted to his scalp and neck. Despite his relaxed posture, there was still a hardness in his face.

"No flowers," he commanded darkly.

"Vikings don't like flowers?" Sookie asked with a smirk that widened into a grin when she couldn't contain her light-heartedness any longer.

Eric didn't dignify that with a response, simply looked at her with intense eyes before closing them again. In the end, Sookie selected a mature and netural scent that smelled creamy and expensive. She returned to her seat behind Eric and squeezed a small amount of silky white shampoo into her palm.

Sookie rubbed it into his scalp in small circles, a comforting force working in her fingers. He stiffened at the first touch, so much power coiling in his form, and remained tense for the next several before he began to slowly relax, even enjoy her attentions. She squeezed more shampoo onto her palm before lathering the product in his hair from root to tip.

His darkened blone hair was soft and silky sliding through her fingers, foaming bubbles welling through the gaps between each finger. Her tension and wariness ebbed away, and was replaced by a soft peace unknown to her. She liked doing this for him, and he liked her doing it.

By the time she washed the shampoo from his hair, cupping the warm water with her hands, feeling a violent jolt as the edge of her fingers brushed his bare shoulder, he had changed. Eric's expression was always hard and stony, like unmoving marble, like the blade of a weapon.

Sookie felt her stomach jolt and her heart clench when she looked down at him in her bathtub. He was beautiful in a new way. His mouth was soft, pink and relaxed from its hard line. His brow was smooth and untroubled, his eyes were closed, his expression was smooth and at ease rather than rough and guarded, taut with a harsh perpetual anger.

If he was human, he could have been sleeping.

He didn't look like a Viking or a vampire or the murderer and lover of many. For the first time since she had met him, Eric looked like a thirty-year-old man. It was oddly staggering to see.

The music continued to play, soft and beautiful, flowing into the air like a siren song.

"What language is this?" Sookie asked quietly. She squeezed conditioner onto her palm.

"Old Swedish," Eric answered in a low voice. "It's really quite beautiful..."

His voice trailed off as she began to massage the conditioner into his hair. A low, dark sound rumbled in Eric's chest, too harsh and growling to be described as a purr. Sookie grinned, amused by the thought of the Shrieff of Area Five _purring_ like Tina under her hands.

It took a moment for the blonde telepath to realize the hidden warmth in her chest and identify it. _Fondness._

Sookie frowned at the realization, a seed of displeasure rising in her mind. Her hands continued to lather the conditioner into his hair as she thought. He must have killed thousands over so many years and he would kill thousands more.

To her irritation but not surprise, Sookie wasn't instantly horrorstruck by what she _already_ knew. It was a remote concept that she'd been aware of since first laying eyes on the man. She wasn't naive or stupid. She knew how dangerous and morally gray liking Eric was, let alone feeling fond of the blonde Viking vampire.

But as long as she didn't suddenly turn into one of those simpering girls and forget that he was still a homicidal vampire, Sookie could deal with it. Almost like an adult too. Gee whiz!

"It's beautiful anyway," Sookie said finally, settling back into her usual good humor with grace. Eric grunted lowly in agreement, that dark purr rumbling in his chest as she continued to massage his scalp.

Sookie liked that noise - the low tone of it and the unconscious pleasure it signified. It was rough and unexpectedly sexy, sending small sparks down her spine that twirled low in her stomach and throbbed. She felt relaxed and pleased, reluctant to finish her job but reality was a pressing matter.

Cupping the warm water in her hands, she carefully rinsed the conditioner out of his hair, wet silky strands sliding through her fingers, until she was sure all the product was gone and then once more for luck. Sookie shifted in her perch on the counter, leg muscles shifting and readying to move, but Eric was far faster.

The water splashed against the edges of the tub as the blonde vampire twisted onto his knees and around to face her in one swift smooth movement. Sookie's head snapped towards him, but her eyes flitted downwards of their own accord. Lust crackled in her lower stomach like an bolt of lightning, flaring up wildly, shooting sparks recklessly through her body, and she felt her pulse speeding up, a throb between her legs.

Water rolled and poured down Eric's exquisite chest, creamy pale skin darkened to almost peach by the moisture. His stomach was made of hard defined muscle which showed clearly under his skin that ruthlessly _demanded_ attention and admiration. Steam rose off his skin, there was a _tiny_ freckle on the side of his ribcage. A small stream of water gushed down his chest, over his belly button, and down the trail of dark golden hair, to -

Sookie forced her eyes up before she could see anymore, beating the urge to peek into submission.

It would only be fair, considering he was practically inviting her to look and they'd had _actual conversatons_ about her cleavage before, but self-control? So _not_ one of Sookie's strong points. Best not to tempt herself further.

"Allow me to return the favour," Eric rumbled, his eyes were dark and hazy with pleasure. He reached out and touched her just where her hair met her temple, skin warmed by the water. The sparks of lust catapolted recklessly around her stomach, increasing almost painfully as he moved his hand, callus' catching lightly, intimately, on her hair.

She thought about how laughably easy it would be for him to crush her skull like this but she felt no fear or wariness. He found her useful. He was here for a _reason. _He had purred under her touch, and she knew he would have stopped _instantly_ if he'd had any idea about it. Even now, his hand moved down her golden braid instead of crushing her skull.

It felt nice, a mere taste of what he wanted to do to her.

His blue eyes burned into hers urgingly, dark with animal lust and hard want, all for her. Sookie looked back at him boldly, that wicked light of mischief dancing through her eyes like fireflies, and fearlessly, she grinned.

"Mm. I'd rather you just owed me," she said, making it clear in tone that she was joking.

Sookie ducked under his arm, hearing the faint sound of a rough chuckle, and rose to her feet, facing him. Her knee wanted to buckle at the heat remaining in his eyes but she held herself, eyebrow quirked upwards. And then Eric rose from the bathtub, stepping out, reaching his towering height, making no move to cover himself.

The crackling lust in her body flared up wildly as she struggled to keep their eyes connected, seeing brutal lust and hunger and wicked amusement in his cool blue gaze. She felt herself smiling at him, despite the throbbing heat between her legs and the unsteady beat of her heart.

"Tease," Sookie declared ironically, arching her eyebrow at him to include him in the joke. She reached over to her side, eyes locked on his, and grabbed a towel from the rack. Stepping closer, she wrapped the soft white towel around his hips, covering his bare skin.

The slick wet muscles of Eric's chest shifted as she secured the towel at his waist, and his head lowered, close enough for him to scent her. Her stomach clenched a little but she didn't step back.

"I have no use for teasing," Eric told her starkly, a dark rumble - the promise of pleasure - in his voice.

"But you enjoy it," Sookie said knowingly, half smile curving her lips.

Golden hair slicked back, naked but for the towel around his hips, Eric smirked. "As do you."

Sookie laughed, a bright smile lingering at her mouth. "Yeah, I'm kind of a terrible human being, aren't I?"

Despite their proximity, Eric prowled closer still to her. "Your humanity is up for debate. I sincerely doubt you have much human blood in you. You do not smell nor act like most human beings I have encountered."

Sookie thought about that for a moment. Her feelings were conflicted. Despite everything, it would feel like a loss if she did have little human blood. Not for the obvious reason of having believed herself to be human for fourteen years.

Jason remembered mama giving birth to her quite vividly, so if she was half something else, then her daddy wasn't her daddy. Jason would be her half-brother. Gran and Hadley and Aunt Lydia (and Bartlett) would have no actual relation to her. Blood wasn't everything but it was _something_.

Gran would've loved her no matter what, and Jason would still be her dumbass, drug addicted brother who, though clueless, loved her just as much as she loved him. That was something, too.

"I think you're just saying that because you like me," Sookie said in a flirtatious tone.

As always, there was a light note to her voice, speaking of her lack of seriousness, but there was a miniscule shift in Eric's expression. A tiny explosion rocked through Sookie's head, one she barely kept off her face. It seemed like she wasn't the only one suffering from unwanted feelings towards a sarcastic blonde. If Eric suspected she knew, his reaction would be unpleasant.

Whenever he couldn't avoid direct contact with her, he would be cold and harsh. She liked their banter and mockery. No one reacted to her like Eric did. She would miss their interactions. He was smart and sardonic, unlike most of the people she knew.

It was time to play Blonder Than Thou.

Smirk clinging to her lips as though she hadn't noticed a thing, Sookie shifted to his side and pulled the plug from the bath. Placing the plug aside, she straightened up, shaking her wet hand slightly.

"I have a favour to ask of you," Eric said, gaze drilling into her skin in a way that made her spine tingle.

Very few people would manage to thrill and chill someone in a white towel, dripping wet, but Eric Northman was one of those people.

The view was _amazingly _distracting.

"As a telepath," she fluttered her eyelashes dramatically, "Or as a woman?"

Eric smirked in amusement, a wicked glint in his eyes - she could almost hear the smoothly delivered retort - but his amusement was brief. His eyes drew dark and endless. It was an unnerving look made from a hot rage crystallized into ice. The restraint that took was far more lethal than a hot-blooded rage was.

A wildly furious man acted with reckless abandon. A man in control acted rationally and intelligently.

Eric inflinced his head before turning around and walking into her bedroom. Sookie followed him, taking a seat on the edge of her bed with a small bounce. Eric remained standing and began to pace across her bedroom floor before her.

"It was brought to my attention tonight that sixty thousand dollars has gone missing from Fangtasia's books. I suspect one of the humans working for me is responsible."

Sookie's emotions focused abruptly, surprise lighting her face. She looked at Eric's unreadable expression, sensing rather than seeing his bloodthirsty rage behind the flawless mask he wore. He was serious. Someone had _actually _stolen from the muscular, thousand year old vampire shrieff.

Jesus Christ.

"And that was the sound of my faith in any kind of intelligent life shattering," Sookie remarked without any true playfulness in her voice. There was nothing amusing about what Eric would do to whoever had been stupid enough to steal from him.

A shiver writhed up her spine, stomach dropping slightly, and she thought briefly of Gran, the woman she loved with her whole heart.

"How do you know this wonderful example of Darwinism is even human?" Sookie wondered.

Stopping, Eric's gaze turned slowly to her, eyes locking on her form. "I only have one vampire in my establishment," he stated. Sookie arched her eyebrows at him, distinctly remembering two others. "Pam has no need to steal from me. Longshadow is a possiblity but a highly unlikely one."

"Because he's a vampire?"

Eric stiffened, ice hardening in his eyes. "Do not take me for a fool, my tiny human," he said in a low dangerous voice.

Sookie leaned back down on the bed, supporting herself with her arms, one smooth tanned leg cross over the other. "Or because he knows what you would do to him for this?"

Eric nodded shallowly, ice thawing in his gaze. Sookie hesitated for a few moments, tilting her head back in thought. A tension moved through her body, vice-like around her intestines. Compassion was a killer.

"I haven't looked at the contract yet," Sookie said. She straightened up and looked at Eric with an uncharacteristic seriousness. Eric looked at her with an echoing sobriety, taking notice of her. "But I have to insist on one condition - nobody gets chowed down on, _snicker-snapped_ or otherwise injured."

Eric's eyes sharpened and intensified with fascination, like a large lion spotting its prey. "You wish for me to turn the thief into the authorities, I presume?"

"And whoever else's mind you might need me to read in the future," Sookie said in a clear, steady voice.

"And if I refuse?" Eric tested, fascination lingering in his vividly blue eyes.

"You'll have to find a way around whatever is stopping you from glamouring these people," Sookie replied frankly.

"Human minds are so steeped in fear and denial that glamouring is not always...effective," Eric told her, a note of distaste crinkling in his rumbling voice. "Humans break so easily."

Though she wished too, Sookie couldn't argue with that. She had witnessed the growing chaos inside of people before, and she'd experienced it herself. It was so easy to break or bend, like falling down a hole, numb and careless to everything. So much easier than deciding to pick yourself up again and keep fighting the hopeless battle until something - finally - gives.

It had been years since she started fight. Some days, it seemed like she would never stop.

"I don't," Sookie reminded him quietly. Gran hadn't.

"No, you don't," Eric agreed in a low gravelly voice. His gaze moved from her for a moment, full of thought, before he gave a stiff nod. "Alright. Why not?"

Sookie smiled slightly, relief swelling through her before falling abruptly. "Do you know a woman called Maryann? Looks kind of like a crazy upper class hippie?"

Eric canted his head to the side and studied her with an almost discomforting intensity. "No."

"I got this weird sense from her," Sookie explained. Maryann was the least of her problems but she was trying to figure out a way to explain what happened at the bar tonight to Eric. He would need to know, that was only common sense. "Like she wasn't quite human."

Eric considered this for a moment. "I will look into it," he promised in his dark flowing voice. "Most supernatural beings are wise enough to check in with the Shrieff of their Area but some are too arrogant to consider it."

Sookie went to ask how many other supernatural creatures were actually out there because Tray Dawson had never been able to give her a straight answer - his status in the Monroe pack prevented him for spilling too much information to her. Before telling her _anything_, he had needed to check with his packmaster, a female werewolf called Anne, and then introduce the telepath to the whole pack.

Which was a level of awkwardness _still_ unmatched by any other conversation in her life.

Werewolves weren't looked upon fondly by the rest of the supernatural community, so it was likely Eric had far more respect and power than Anne. Even Anne was to be informed of any new werewolves in her area.

"While we're on the subject of areas, I hear you have three new vampires in yours," Sookie said bluntly.

* * *

><p>Eric stilled, thoughts racing through his mind with the calm of rationality and the haste of intense concern. Malcolm, Liam and Diane were known to be sadistic to the point of unforgivable idiocy. Sookie was a golden prize with her scent and her lusciously curved figure, a tasty beauty with wickedness in her eyes and foolish bravery shooting out of her mouth unflinchingly.<p>

It was a terrible combination.

If Sookie caught the eye of those three and cheerfully offended them as was her way, she would be in danger.

They would have be killed, Eric decided without a single hesitation.

Any threats to Sookie Stackhouse would not be tolerated. Though she protested his protection against the killer haunting Bon Temps, she would accept his aid with this. He had hired two wolves to keep an eye on her starting tomorrow, as she had allowed the night of her grandmother's death, but werewolves would be inept against three vampires.

Malcolm was some centuries his junior but he was a greasy one. The other two were simpering wastes of blood, drunk on arrogance. It was a marvel his tiny human was alive, no matter how much of a delightfully sarcastic spitfire she was. But her golden skin was unmarred and lovely as ever. There had to be a reason for that.

Perhaps Compton was actually capable of being useful?

Eric doubted it.

It was more likely his spitfire had been clever.

The high probablity of that was almost enough to make him feel proud of Sookie, but his anger was stronger, raging through him like fire but with the staying power of ice.

"Oh, my dearest darling," Sookie quipped with her uncanny insight into his emotions. She was smiling sardonically, a glint in her dark eyes, when he looked at her. "Just wait, it gets worse. Guess where I was."

His anger swelled in the pit of his stomach. "The shifter's bar."

His tiny human seemed taken aback by his lack of coddling for a split second before a spark of approval flared in her dark eyes. Another of her admirable qualities - she did not want nor expect to be treated gently.

"Well, technically, my bar until Sam wakes up," Sookie told him, moving her head in a way that made her long blonde hair fall over her face. "But you can have a golden star, anyway."

She was managing the dog's bar rather than collapsing into despair. None of it surprised Eric. She was the type to act rather than wallow. "What damage was sustained?"

"No one died, nothing was broken, but it was quite a scene. The locals are freaked to all hell and indulging in some xenophobic ranting but really, this _is_ the South, so they do fulfill that stereotype pretty much all of the goddamn time."

Excellent. The disturbance would give him cause to haul the three idiotic vampires before the Magister. Despite the Magister's low opinion of (supposed) humans, his dedication to the Authority would take the three off his hands and into a coffin chained with silver.

"They will be taken care of," Eric stated coldly.

* * *

><p>There was menace on Eric's handsome face, dark and foreboding. It was not a grand evil, all froth and no actual product, but a far more worrying understated threat, like a knife concealed up a beautiful man's sleeve. Though Eric did not need a knife, and he was currently managing to both unnerve and distract her while wearing one of her towels around his hips.<p>

His eyes were cold but his face was difficult to read beyond that sense of danger and intense power that he carried effortlessly around with him.

Her face, on the other hand, was open - and a broad smile curved her lips, a small laugh spilling from her mouth. "Are you going to put a horse's head in their coffins?"

Eric looked at her, reading the amusement off her face and the glow in her eyes. Before Sookie could draw in another breath, he zipped across the room and sat very, very close to her. She had the feeling he wanted to push her down onto the bed and pin her there with his weight but she was glad he decided against it.

Not many people survived kicking Eric Northman in the balls, Sookie thought wryly.

His eyes cut cleanly into her flesh, striking down to the bone - far more effective than any of the scare tatics she would laugh off. But his crushing intensity wasn't enough to make her falter even a little.

"How did you escape them?" Eric asked, a bored undercurrent of demand in his voice. Clearly, his towel was in a twist.

"Hmm," she sounded flippantly. "Dropped your name once or twice, snarked _more_ than once or twice, then I won a staring contest."

Eric went very, very still. His eyes burned, closer to silver than blue in that moment. The intensity wasn't angry but it was fierce. "Explain," he said in a rough voice.

"That was pretty much it," Sookie told Eric, studying his expression for signs of violence which was at odds with her careless voice, and quirked eyebrow. "They came, you called, I glared - they ran away like a pack of five-year-old girls."

Eric drilled into her with his eyes. His face was locked down tightly, not a single indication of anything coming off him. But Sookie recognized that expression very well from when he had kissed her. His pupils were dilated, darkened with hunger and lust.

Her heart stuttered, her stomach clenched, and the dim buzz of electricity in her lower gut amped up into full voltage. She could tell he wanted to kiss her but Eric seemed to restrain himself, though his eyes remained dark as did his voice, which scrapped over her skin and left chills in its wake. "You would make an exceptional vampire."

Sookie was sharp enough to read the tone of his voice. It wasn't a suggestion or a threat. It was Eric's way of complimenting her - and rather highly, at that. But still, it wasn't something she had ever wanted.

Sookie shared her love of sunshine with Gran, spending many mornings gardening with the older woman or cooking _human_ food with her while Jason waited impatiently and chugged down glasses of sweet tea. She'd used to mock the stereotype they represented, but now, she would give anything to go back to one of those beautiful stereotypical sunny mornings.

"An exceptionally terrible one, you mean," Sookie replied cheerfully, unable to help a smirk. "I'm _all_ about a tan, a pulse and - oh - not being forced to obey somebody until they said otherwise."

Eric did not seem surprised by her knowledge. Instead, he considered her words. "Most makers would not tolerate your insubordination personality," he admitted eventually, a low note of thought in his voice.

"Yeah, most humans have trouble with that as well," Sookie told him, slightly sadistic amusement weaving through her voice.

Eric looked faintly amused before his expression became detached and all business again. "There are things I need to attend to. Malcolm, Liam and Diane will be out of Bon Temps by sunrise."

"Since I get the feeling I'd regret it, I'm not going to ask what you're planning to do with the disco triplets - but thank you."

"Come to me at Fangtasia tomorrow night," Eric commanded, wording his request sensually. His eyes moved over her body, making no move to hide his admiration. "Wear white."

Sookie quirked an eyebrow at him, a smirk toying at the corners of her mouth. "Put some pants on."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Sookie was woken up by her shrill ringing of her alarm clock at exactly 6 am. She flinched at the noise, instinctively burrowing under the covers of her own bed (for the first time since Gran) in a desperate attempt at escaping the shrill shrieks.<p>

Of course, it failed.

"Oh my God, why?" Sookie had to ask herself as she twisted blindly around in the white sheets. She shoved her face into the pillow. The noise continued to drill awareness into her head, and she abruptly remembered why she set her alarm so early when the bar wasn't opened until nine.

Last night, after he'd put his clothes back on, Eric had warned her about Jason's nasty habit. Seeing no reason to withhold it, she'd admitted to picking it out of her brother's head. Unless Jason went after a vampire, Eric would let her handle things.

Tension wormed through Sookie's body. Frowning, she rolled over and hit her alarm clock. She felt a reluctance to leave her soft, warm bed and go out into the world where the man who murdered her Gran walked around, and her brother was a drug addict.

But this wasn't something she could put off. She had to open the bar at nine then leave at five so she could get changed before going to Fangtasia at six. She needed to talk to Jason now.

If he asked any questions about what she said, she would just have to deflect until he was distracted by something shiny.

Sookie rolled over again, sheets twisting around her as she settled on her back. Or she could tell him the truth but that was more likely to drive him _further_ into V. Her insides cringed at the mere idea of Jason knowing but she put that option on the backburner.

She was willing to do just about anything to stop him turning out like Hadley or ending up on Eric's bad side.

Sookie forced herself out of bed. She showered quickly, trying not to think of Eric in her bathtub, before pulling on her Merlotte's uniform. She chose a light pink lipstick, darkened her eyelashes with mascara then applied some eyeliner before pulling on her shoes, grabbing her bag, and driving over to Jason's house.

Sookie couldn't remember much of her life before the flood that killed her parents, just glimpses and flashes like dreams, but it still felt strange to think of Jason living in their parents' house. She'd been _born_ in that house.

Which was _just_ as gross as it sounded. Even worse to have to seen it from Jason's eyes.

Wondering if you're parents were high when they named you was fairly common, but knowing that her Daddy _had_ actually been high was just awkward.

Still, some of the memories were happy when Mama hadn't been condemning her for what she couldn't control, and Daddy hadn't been wondering if the two of them were actually his children. As a child, she'd liked going on picnics with Jason, Tara and Gran more than spending time with her parents.

A faint ache flared up in her chest. Her Mama had preferred that as well but Daddy had loved spending time with them, despite her telepathy and his uncertainty about their parentage. The Stackhouse family was one big mess of fucked-up - except Gran.

"In hindsight, I'm not even surprised," Sookie commented under her breath, thinking about her general strangeness and Jason's...everything.

Using her key to the place - someone had to make sure Jason didn't die of scurvy - Sookie let herself in. The place was a mess, as usual, but it wasn't overly dangerous. It was an orderly type of clutter she was used to when it came to her brother. She walked to Jason's bedroom and, with an entirely justified hesitance, she shoved the door open.

As suspected, she flinched at what she saw. "My eyes!"

Jason and a dark-haired woman were in bed - black silk sheets, for _God's sake_ - and they were awake. The woman screamed, yanking the pimptastic sheets to her chest, and Jason cried, "What the fu - Sookie?"

His shout turned into a soft, serious query.

The woman stopped, breathing heavily, green eyes locking on Sookie. "Your sister, Sookie?"

Sookie switched her dark gaze from the woman to Jason, who was staring at her painfully. "Do I even want to know why you were talking about me to - uh - "

"Amy Burly," the woman said instantly. She moved up on her knee on the bed, and offered her hand to Sookie with a smile. "I've heard so much about you."

Sookie blinked at her, trying desperately not to wonder, and instead, looked worriedly down at Amy's hand. "Could we postpone the handshake?"

For a moment, Amy looked puzzled, and then realization hit. "Oh! Oh, no - we didn't have sex."

Sookie stared at her for a moment as she covered herself with a thin sheet, and arched a single eyebrow sardonically. "Sure. Okay, ha - _anyway_ - I need to kidnap my sibling."

Amy looked at Jason, who nodded shallowly with a heavy swallow, "Yeah, yeah. Hey, I'll bring you back some breakfast, okay?"

Sookie felt a stab of surprise at the offer. Since when did Jason even remember the, uh, love of his life's name, let alone to be considerate?

"Oh, you don't need to do that," Amy said, almost shyly.

"It's fine," Jason said, taking his eyes off her for the first time to direct a mushy look to Amy that almost turned Sookie's hair white with shock. "I don't mind."

"Meet me outside," Sookie told him, a little curtly, not wanting to see any more. She turned and walked out of the bedroom, feeling Jason staring after her. A knot formed in her stomach as she walked outside - there was no way Jason was going to let the subject drop.

Sookie sat on the hood of her car, dark gaze turning distant. She could imagine Jason's reaction if he ever knew - tears and guilt and a hot, burning rage. Gran hadn't made a big thing about it, no matter how guilt-stricken and horrified she had been, but Jason wasn't so composed.

And he would change. He wouldn't be able to look at her without seeing all that plastered all over her. She wouldn't be the little sister with a fantastic right hook and sharp tongue who he was proud of. She would be his little sister, the victim he needed to protect.

The idea made her stomach churn and the skin on her shoulder blades tingle.

Tara would be the same, more rabidly protective than ever. It would be different and wrong but Jason wouldn't let the subject drop _because_ he loved her. It was intolerable.

If anyone, Lafayette would react like she needed him too. He would be pissed but he wouldn't lose his shit like Jason or Tara, because he got people better than either of them ever did. He wouldn't treat her differently.

Sookie had no desire to tell anybody - she wanted the secret locked up tightly in her chest until the day she died - but she knew, better than most, that life never worked out like you expected.

Life sucked, all she could do was roll with the punches and quip wittily when shit hit the fan.

The door opened, and Jason jogged out, clothes slightly mussed. Sookie's head turned to him, eyebrows arching in surprise at the sight of him.

"If that isn't a sign of the end, I don't know what is," Sookie announced, pushing off the hood of her yellow car and flashing him a wry grin. "Big brother without his hair gel."

Jason looked confused for a moment before realization hit, and he flattened his hair self-consciously, a grin to match hers appearing on his face, "I had to explain some shit to Amy - and I didn't want to keep you waiting."

For a moment, Sookie felt a spike of irritation before he continued, "Not after last time."

Last time, she had filled a bucket with ice water from the hose and flung it at his hair the minute he walked outside. A fond smile curved her mouth, as she remembered Jason's reaction - which was to chase her around the yard with the icy hose until she apologized.

Or more likely, Gran showed up at his place to find what was keeping them from Sunday lunch which they were _never _allowed to miss.

Despite that, Gran always had been amused when Sookie showed up wearing some of her brother's clothes because her own were muddy and soaked.

It would never happen again.

The two siblings looked at each other, sharing the same memory and the same pain for a split second before Jason cleared his throat uncomfortably, eyes unusually bright. "Where are we goin', anyhow?"

Sookie shrugged and declared flippantly, "Meh. Center of the Earth. Might wanna bring some suntan lotion..."

Well used to her random nonsensical answers, Jason frowned at her.

Relenting, Sookie answered truthfully, "To see Sam at the hospital."

* * *

><p><strong>There might be a delay until I can write the next chapter unless anyone feels like explaining the periodic table in extreme detail to me. <strong>

**Reviews + Bambieyes1234 = Chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**I have been doing some research about the casting of Sookie Stackhouse, and no matter how much I love Anna Paquin (in X-Men), I have to wonder - who would you have chosen to play Sookie Stackhouse in TB?**

**Or rather, who would you have chosen to play Sookie Stackhouse in Circular Reasoning?**

* * *

><p>Jason followed in her footsteps as Sookie strode down the hospital corridor with bravado. Her feet tried to drag but she pushed onwards regardless at such a speed that Jason needed to jog to keep up with her. Anxiety writhed through her insides. Though Sam wasn't the liveliest of people, he had a certain air of kindness that drew people in.<p>

The shifter had ignored all of the rumours about her and hired her anyway. He put up with her snarky retorts, and her tendancy to go overboard while defending herself from a grabby customers. When Arlene or Dawn were grabbed, Sam always kicked the creep to the curve or let Sookie do it. He wasn't the type of sleeze to expect more from the waitresses than in the job description. He was a tolerant boss and a good friend when he wasn't rocking the whole mysterious and broody deal.

Sam genuinely cared about her, and Sookie returned the feeling, despite certain Fangtasia related mishaps.

The last time she had seen him, he had been riddled with stab wounds and bleeding out on her kitchen floor while Bill opened a vein to save his life. Despite the healing qualities in vampire blood, Sam hadn't woke up since, and his brain waves were said to be low.

As a telepath, Sookie was willing to test that theory. Interestingly enough, she could hear the thoughts of those in a coma, though not if they were squishy in the brain department. They were unresponsive to sounds, she had found, but she could catch hazy, dizzy snippets of thoughts.

She felt a faintly choking fear rising up from the pit of her stomach, unprepared for what she might - or worse, might not - find while skimming Sam's brain.

And then there was Jason, who twisted her insides up with rage and wild panic.

There were a fuckton of stupid genes in the Stackhouse family, and the two of them shared a fierce stubbornness. It was never pretty when they clashed with each other, but more often then not? It was damn vital. Like now. Especially now.

After Gran and Sam, Sookie couldn't lose somebody else. She would do anything to avoid that.

A reckless freedom flooded through her veins, twining effortlessly with fury and worry and anxiety - wasn't she just Miss Emotional today? Still. She deserved some emotional hiccups right now. She was about to find out if her boss was ever coming back, and try to talk her brother out of a goddamn drug addiction.

If he was determined enough, Jason would be able to handle the withdrawl without slipping back up, but even Sookie, who had known him her whole life, was unable to predict if he would block her out, like he sometimes did, or listen to her, like he usually did after she snarked him into submission.

Sookie felt low on snark right now - anger and terror hollowing her out into a simple unyielding resolve.

"I thought you were avoidin' me," said Jason, his usually subdued voice breaking through her thoughts.

"Was plannin' on it," Sookie replied, blonde hair swinging and brushing the back of her ribcage as she walked. "Then I remembered I didn't want you dead, so I figured I better stage an intervention instead."

"Intervention?" Jason repeated, thick accent making the words sound rough and coarse. His voice heated up - defensive. "I don't need no intervention."

"No," Sookie agreed pleasantly enough, twisting around to grab her brother by the collar and haul him into Sam's hospital room. She closed the door behind them, and kept him pinned to the door with a hand twisted in his shirt, her back to Sam. "You need a goddamn brain. You think I want to play the Ghost Of Stupidity Past with you?"

"The - " Jason glanced around, like he expected a nurse to be in the room with them, before looking back at her, brown eyes narrowed furiously, face flushing red. "It ain't none of your goddamn business, Sookie."

Sookie let go of his shirt, hands hitting her curvy hips and arched a brow at him sardonically. "You're my brother - since when has anything you do not been my business?" Jason looked like he was about to deflect with a heap of blatant bullshit, but her sarcastic expression darkened with anger. "Since Gran was murdered by a vampire-hating psycho?"

"If vampires stayed the fuck away from Bon Temps, Gran would still be here!" Jason said hotly, temper flaring high.

"Dawn and Maudette were killed just for sleeping with a vampire," Sookie reminded him in a hard though even voice. "How long do you think it would have been before the killer started killin' anyone who ain't normal? Like - oh, I don't know - a telepath? And if Gran got caught in the crossfire? Would you have blamed me?" A thought struck her brutally in the chest, knocking the breath out of her and her voice softened automatically, "Do you blame me?"

"You ain't even fuckin' that vampire!" Jason gritted out, fury and distress twisting his flushed face, and harshening his voice. "Either of 'em. It ain't your fault."

Try telling that to everyone else, Sookie thought grimly.

Why else would a vampire-hating killer go after Gran? It had to be one of the locals - someone who had heard one of Arlene's damn rumours about her -

"Then why did you try to hit me?" Sookie asked frankly - not plaintively.

Her blunt question drained the reddened fury from Jason's face. His mouth parted, words swimming in the dark eyes they shared. "Sookie...I didn't...you know I didn't mean to...I was..."

"Lashing out at whoever was closest," Sookie finished quietly for him. "And Eric stopped you. Who," she began to added, falling back to her snarky expression, "is - FYI - a vampire, just in case you missed him chilling out on a massive throne at Fangtasia."

Jason swallowed, eyes widening in faint shock. A memory passed through his head, so sharp and intense that she was incapable of ignoring it - the twisted expression on her face and the half-wild light in her dark eyes - the tight sarcasm in her voice - rapist turning up to a funeral -

Sookie stilled, mind adapting to this new knowledge. Jason had gone to Fangtasia - to find another hit - because of her. Like Gran was dead because of her - and Gran would have killed her for thinking that - but -

Blood on the kitchen floor - darkening Sam's jeans until they were almost purple in some places - and Gran's iron-white hair matted from it - and Jason, charging towards her with rage in his form -

So many expressions flitted through her mind; her Mama's horrified eyes whenever she knew more than she should, her father's strained expression as his marriage hit another rough patch, JB's heartbroken eyes when she pushed him away, the wild horror on Gran's face when (Sookie took a desperate risk and told the truth) she died, and Jason turning on her after so many years of defending her.

Why did she keep doing that to the people she loved?

The life-support machine beeped behind her in a steady pulse, filling the silence before Jason's defensive voice cut clean through her, "Okay, I went to Fangtasia - so what? Vampires are still murderers - no matter what you said, it don't change nothing - it's their fault Gran's gone!"

"You blame vampires for what happened to Gran, so your reaction is to start drinking vampire blood, not unlike how vampires drink human blood?" Sookie shot back sarcastically. His hardened voice slammed her tough shell back into place, like it had never wavered. "Am I the only person who sees the irony in this? But then, I suppose y'all are too baked to recognize your own reflection, let alone the beautiful concept of irony."

Jason stumbled for a moment, more mentally than physically, before catching himself, and tossing back an irrelevant truth like a deciding fact, "They ain't even alive!"

"Neither," said Sookie quietly, "Are our parents."

Jason flinched like she had, anger floundering in his face. "Our parents never killed anybody."

Their parents weren't the issue here, except for how they were, how they would always be for Sookie and Jason, for Hadley and Gran: the people who were gone, and the people who weren't. The ruins of a family, collapsing in on itself, and leaving only the worst behind.

Sookie wished it was hard to know this, to know a world where Jason, who had pulled her up again as many times as he had seen her fall, was losing himself in the high.

"Kinda funny," she said, and it felt anything but. "How I never see this coming with us."

A silence fell over the hospital room.

Jason stopped at the name. It was a moment before he spoke in a very low, wired voice. "I ain't nothing like fuckin' Hadley."

Subconsciously, Sookie adjusted her footing to brace herself, straining against the desire to avert her eyes, to let honesty blacken her smile with exhaustion.

"Except for the drugs."

"I ain't a goddamn addict," Jason hissed, words packed tight with anger, clearly struggling to keep his voice down.

Sookie simply cocked her head, challenge unfurling in her dark eyes. "Let me guess," her grin was bitter and cold, so cynical, "You can stop any time you want to? Prove it."

"I don't need to, I'm not a fucking addict," Jason repeated defensively.

"You're supposed to be the good grandchild, Jason," Sookie said pitilessly, bringing the words down on him ruthlessly. Jason swallowed, expression contorting, almost like he was torn between screaming in rage or screaming in agony. "What do you think Gran would say about this?"

Gran would have been much gentler and kinder. She would have been patient and caring about her words, instead of throwing words at him like daggers, ruthlessly stabbing all of his sore spots until he felt dizzy and sick from it all. Gran would have made him feel better while saving his life, instead of making him feel like shit to save his life.

Sookie was torn between feeling justified and ashamed of what she was saying to her own damn brother. But there was no time to beat around the bush. The desperate fear of losing him pressed down on her torturously, and she couldn't risk Eric reconsidering if Jason ignored her like the bullheaded moron he was.

If Jason knew about Eric's threat, he would rifle himself up into a macho arrogance and inevitably do something stupid - especially while dosed with vampire blood.

"That ain't fair," Jason said quietly, seriously, a solemn softening to his defensive anger.

A rough smile twisted Sookie's mouth. "You expected it to be?"

Jason's jaw clenched, a third flush of fury rising to his face, but it was impotent and dulled. Gran was their shared weakness, turning harsh and unreasonable fits of rage into something painful yet mellow. Even now, the older woman could make them temper their emotions with rationality which was saying a lot considering the two of them.

"It ain't right, throwing her in my face like that," Jason said in a hard voice with an edge of vulnerablity, deep pain twisting through his voice.

Sookie nodded slightly because he was right - using Gran like this was wrong and one of the shittiest things she had ever done, but she told herself the older woman would have understood. Though Gran would have chewed her to a million pieces for deliberately aiming to wound Jason.

"But Gran would've killed me for this, so maybe what I'm doin' ain't exactly right either," Jason finished in a subdued voice, looking like he was itching for an escape, eyes avoiding her at all costs.

Sookie felt a shift inside of her, a softening in her gut. Sure, Jason had always acted differently from his selfish, vaguely egoistical self around Gran - and her, to a lesser degree - but admitting he might be doing wrong because he couldn't delude himself into believing Gran would have approved?

It would have been tough for a regular person - man or women, the ego was strong in either gender - but Jason had survived the stigmatism of a crazy sister, a hippie mama and a overly mellow dad by being so hard-headed and stubborn.

It was nearly enough for her to thank him, but Sookie handled shit by being emotionally awkward. It was lucky she could (currently) keep a lid on the snark, and just be glad she hadn't needed to threaten Jason with Eric.

Pragmatically, Sookie was tempted to skim through her brother's mind - just to make sure - but if she searched in Jason's head, there was the risk of hearing Sam. Or, a small hesitant voice began in the back of her head, not hearing Sam.

If that was the case, she didn't want Jason to see her reaction to that.

"As awesome and hug worthy this intervention has turned out to be, could you give me a minute before we drive home in awkward silence?"

Instead of looking offended or angry by her awkward brush off, Jason seemed faintly relieved - either by her return to snark or because he needed a break to recover from her multiple guilt trips - then he glanced behind her, at Sam, and she could see his feelings softening towards her.

Holding grudges truly wasn't a Stackhouse trait.

Jason rubbed his face with one hand, clumsy and weary. "It's too damn early, I'll go grab a cup of coffee, you want one?"

"Please."

By now, Jason knew how she took her coffee, so she said nothing else as he walked out of the room, rubbing at the back of his neck, head down.

Sookie stood very still, facing the door, hearing the steady beeps of Sam's heart monitor. The silence settled down on her heavy enough to break her. She couldn't quite make herself turn around, to look at Sam like he was and have the burned into her memory whenever she looked at him after he got better.

It was easier - in a strange way - to think of blood and defensive wounds than this aftermath.

But it was easier to remain in ignorance, to not know what he looked like or if he was still in there, then to have a definite answer. Hope was cruel but reality was so much worse.

Sookie liked Sam.

He was nice and steady and abnormal in his kindness. He had been at her house that night - probably because she hadn't been able to resist showing him how intelligent and capable she thought she was. Sam had looked so happy when she'd acknowledged what he was and accepted it - like a little boy - and then she had stomped on him.

Not intentionally, but regardless.

Regret twisted inside of her, but if anything, she wished she'd hurt him more. He wouldn't be in a hospital room if she had.

Slowly, feeling a tremble in her arm, Sookie reached back, over the end of the bed, and touched Sam's ankle. She kept staring ahead, so scared and so regretful.

"I'm sorry."

And then she slipped - as easy and gracefully as smoke - into his head.

Arlene's thick drawl sounded, words inaudible - and Dawn's blue eyes flared with vivacious life and laughter - Lafayette cackled over the gleaming counters in Merlotte's - Terry's odd expression pulled up into an awkward smile - her hair blazed like gold in the sun, wicked dark eyes sparking with humor and acceptance -

"I can hardly throw stones, now, can I?"

There was no fear, no blood, no death, no killer - just a regular day at Merlotte's.

When Sookie tumbled out of Sam's head, her eyes were burning and small, sobbing sounds jerked out of her mouth. Dizzy with relief and burning with agony, she tried to catch her breath.

Sam had no family, a shady history, but - her hand gripped his foot tighter- he loved his friends just the same.

* * *

><p>As Sookie turned into the road to Bon Temps, the warning cry of fire trucks reached her ears.<p>

"What the hell?" Jason said abruptly, surprise in his voice.

Sookie peered over the dash and out of the window shield. In the distance, a mushroom cloud of thick black smoke reached the sky. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she remembered the redneck group gathered in the bar last night, circled around each other like the least subtle drunken suicide pact in the world.

A sickly feeling tangled in her stomach and knotted tightly. Eric was far too clever to spend the night with the nest of vampires, so he must be back in Shreveport. If he hadn't snapped up the other three vampires, Royce and his minions were screwed.

Her stomach churned at the thought but she was never one for pretty delusions. Tray Dawson had killed people - members of his own pack, if needed be - and over a thousand years, Eric's body count had to be huge. It was an abstract concept that was quickly becoming factual.

Welcome to the mindfuck, Sookie thought sourly, recalling how long it had taken her to adjust to the knowledge that Dawson had killed others.

"Holy shit. Do you think a bonfire got outta hand?" Jason asked beside her. "I heard that Maryann chick was having a party last night..."

Maryann. Another supernatural shit storm just waiting to happen.

"I doubt it," Sookie predicted warily, pressing her foot down on the gas and heading towards the huge cloud of smoke. "These things usually come in threes."

By now, it was closer to ten tragedies - though calling the nesting vampires' demise tragic was a pretty long stretch.

Sookie swerved around the vultures gathering around the smoke cloud, extremely relieved not to see Maxine Fortenberry lurking around, though it did disprove her theory that the older woman had a supernatural talent for gossip.

After cheerfully threatening to mow down her neighbours to get through the crowd, the blonde telepath shoved the car door open and climbed out. Jason exited the other door. Together, they stood a few feet from the line of yellow tape, staring at the flame ravaged house, the quiet rumble of her engine and the whispers of gossip filling the silence.

The flames were out, though only just, and the hungry black smoke stretched high above them. The air was filled with the scent of burning, thick and dry, clinging to the back of her throat like ashes. The whispers and murmurs grew louder at the sight of them - Sookie and Jason Stackhouse, staring at the smoke curling up towards the heavens.

"Holy shit," Jason cursed in shock.

Sookie dropped her gaze from the sky and scanned over the yellow tape line. Andy Bellefluer and Sheriff Dearborn were several feet away, both wearing sun glasses and serious expression, talking. Orange flames flared from the wreckage, and water roared forward from the firemen's hose, dousing them instantly. Mike was closer to the house, shaking his head at something a paramedic was saying. There was a single black coffin.

Dark eyes captured every detail and -

From the masses: " - Bill Compton - "

Sookie stiffened, thoughts turning to Bill. Was he involved in this? Even if he had ignored her warning and confronted the other vampires, after Eric presumably showed up, why would he stick around? Would Eric have hauled Bill in with the three?

Her eyes returned to the dark coffin, a frown shaping her face. She wasn't particularly fond of Bill, unable to control her instincts and disturbed by the glimpses of his view on women. There wasn't a woman worth her salt that couldn't do what needed to be done, Gran had often told her, and Bill needed to be groin-punched with that memo.

Yet, she didn't want Bill to be dead. He hadn't done anything to harm her, if anything he had tried to befriend her. Despite her smell personal feelings towards the vampire, it was another tragedy, a loss, though small, that she didn't want.

Sookie focused on Mike, and listened to his thoughts - what the hell am I gonna do with a box of ashes and teeth - dentist appointment today - looks like human teeth, human ashes - fucking vampires -

Her mind jammed briefly before switching to another scenrio - the killer. She didn't know if this house actually belonged to the three vampires. The killer could have killed another 'fang-banger' and set the place on fire. Or he could have planted the body after dawn. Or he could have nothing to do with this.

Either way, somebody was dead.

Bill wasn't, but somebody was.

"Sookie," Jason said softly, and she turned her head to see him watching her over the hood of the car. He looked briefly surprised at her realitively calm expression. "Come on now. Let's get away from here."

With a mind filled with blood and killers, Sookie reluctantly did the responsible thing. "Can you take care of Tina for a few days?"

* * *

><p>After moving Tina and all of her things to Jason's house where she was much less likely to get caught in the crossfire, Sookie sat down at the table with her head in her hands. The clock ticked quietly from the wall, breaking the thick silence. For the first time she could remember, the house was entirely empty aside from her.<p>

Gran wasn't in the garden, planting new roses, or reading a book and listening to the radio in the kitchen. Jason wasn't filling the house with his large, thudding footsteps. Tina wasn't sprawling all over the floor, fur ruffled adorably, or scratching at her bedroom door in the middle of the night.

Sookie inhaled deeply, locking her somber thoughts away, and - struck by an idea - grinned mischievously to herself.

She lifted her head, rose from the chair to grab the phone, located an all-day/night florist in Shreveport, and dialled.

"I'd like twelve roses," Sookie said after the nicities were out of the way, a wicked smirk curving her lips, " - White roses - to be delivered to - " she rattled off the address to Fangtasia and said Eric's name, " - at 6 o'clock tonight."

After confirming the order and giving her credit card details, Sookie hung up, and briefly wondered how horrified the delivery boy would be when he saw where he was delivering the roses.

Wear white, Eric had ordered her.

Well, hopefully the flowers would make up for the common sense of not wearing a colour that stained easily with the way her luck was rolling.

Also? The sheer irony of sending Eric Northman a bunch of roses that held the meaning of innocence and purity? Beautiful.

Amusement bubbled up inside of Sookie like a shaken can of soda, and she didn't even try to stiffle her laughter as she pictured Eric's reaction. It was doubtful he would recognize the irony, considering how anti-flowers he had seemed last night, but her amusement was untouched by that.

The back door swung open, and Tara stalked, uninvited, into her kitchen, "You will not fucking believe what happened to me last night." Suddenly seeming to realise her best friend was laughing in a fairly deranged manner, Tara stared at her. "Jesus, Christ, what happened to you?"

Sookie clenched her jaw together, trapping her laughter inside her chest, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. A few stray giggles slipped from her mouth, and her lips kept pulling up into a silly, happy grin. Her gloom and discontent was overpowered by her sunny sense of humor.

"I'm pretty sure I was born," Sookie answered gleefully. "Coffee?"

"No thanks," Tara said slowly, eyeing her worriedly. Sookie flashed her a beaming grin, and her friend sighed, probably chalking up behaviour up to her usual bizzare state of mind. Tara shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"So, last night." Sookie ran a hand through her hair, still smiling as she sank down into a kitchen chair. "What happened with the, uh, exorcism? Did your mama's head spin round and start spewing out every drop of alcohol she'd ever drunk?"

"We'd still be in that fucking trailer if that had happened," Tara said cynically, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Sookie. "I'd almost prefer it that way. The whole damn day has been real fucking weird."

"Go on," Sookie said as she leaned back in her chair, a single leg crossing over the other. "Lay it on me."

Tara huffed out a sigh, rolling her eyes - before promptly caving and ranting out a brief description of last night's events. She told Sookie about walking five miles and getting bit to pieces by bugs only to find an old woman who spoke in tongues and lived in a trailer in the middle of nowhere. ("We live in Bon Temps," Sookie had pointed out. "We have cable," Tara snarked back.) And then about the weird stones and the weird chanting -

"Wait," Sookie gasped out through bouts of laughter, leaning heavily on the table top to keep herself in the chair. "Wait - so, this hippie chick basically repeated her little pet name for the - " she started giggling again, " - for the rock over and over again - "

"Then she drowned a ferret," Tara finished, slumping back in her chair with a roll of her widened eyes.

Sookie's inconsolable laughter turned into nervous, disbelieving giggles. "Crazy Hippie did what?"

"Drowned a goddamn ferret," Tara repeated, to her horror.

"What?" Sookie exclaimed, voice pitched high in outrage. "But - why?"

"I got no fucking idea," said Tara. "Do you want to know the really fucked up thing?"

Sookie flinched, dark eyes widening in morbid horror. "It gets worse? Jesus Christ, Tara - not a puppy, too? Why didn't you floor the crazy bitch?"

Tara ignored her puppy-related worries. "It actually worked. My mama cooked me breakfast - she threw all them bottles away - "

Sookie looked at her friend, biting down another comment about the poor ferret. Ever since Tara had been little, she'd wanted her mama to quit drinking. Darkly, the blonde wondered how long it would be before Lettie Mae was tossing back booze again. She knew witches existed but life didn't work like that. There were no easy fixes for major traumas or addictions - and she knew that from experience.

But as Sookie looked across the table at Tara, she could see the hope her friend was trying to crush, and the tentative happiness at maybe having a real parent for once - instead of being the parent to her drunk and violent mama.

Sookie was far from fond of Lettie Mae - she loved Tara too much for that - but she stopped herself from expressing her opinion to Tara.

Like with Jason, she knew what was most likely to happen - relapse - but she wanted to believe the best - recovery. Besides Tara was far from naive, and even further from optimistic.

"Huh," Sookie remarked. "Wonder if this would've worked on my mama."

"She and your mama would've got on like a house on fire - " Tara predicted amusingly.

"Though if anything, my mama would be the thing getting expelled from someone."

Tara snorted, shaking her head. She hadn't known Miranda Stackhouse for long, but she knew enough to laugh without feeling too guilty. "So how was the bar last night?"

Glancing back at the clock, Sookie shrugged. "I had a staring contest with a group of crazy vampires and won." Catching sight of her friend's uncertain expression, she flashed a grin. "I need to open the bar. I'll explain while you pretend to be a good friend and help me."

* * *

><p>After horrifying Tara by explaining about last night, Sookie ducked into Sam's office for a quick review of his books. Math wasn't her favourite subject in the world but she was passable in it, and the steady stream of fact was strangely relaxing after the emotional hellhole over the last few days.<p>

Another person was not dead, Gran was alive, Tara was happy, Jason wasn't a drug addict, Tina was safe at home, Dawson wasn't mad at her, and there was no serial killer in here. Sam was asking for her help with the books because he was even worse at Math than her.

She had powered through all of yesterday's intake when there was a quiet knock that gave the feeling of hesitance. Not Tara nor Lafayette. Arlene wasn't in yet. Terry?

"Come in," she called.

There was a brief silence, but before she repeated her invitation, the door was pushed open, and Terry moved into the office, something nervous to his posture as he shut the door behind him.

Sookie dropped the pen and leaned slightly away from the desk with a smile, "Hey Terry." She manipulated her features into a grave look. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Terry shifted his feet awkwardly, and didn't smile. He seemed more anxious and awkward than usual. Sookie softened her features. Terry tended to handle simpler things better - her sense of humor was a bit beyond him more often than not, and after last night, he seemed worse than usual.

Sometimes he needed gentle treatment rather than her usual behaviour.

"I wanted to apologize," he said stiffly, eyes moving around like he was searching for a threat.

Sookie furrowed her brow, and asked softly, "Uh, for what?"

"Not doin' anything yesterday," he answered in a low uncomfortable voice.

Her heart melted in her chest. Sookie rose slowly from the desk, keeping her posture relaxed and unthreatening as she very clearly approached him. "Terry, there was nothin' you could've done yesterday. I'm not doubting whatever training you had, but those vampires were inhumanly strong. Don't feel guilty about it."

"Guilt is a useless emotion," Terry said abruptly, like it was hard-wired into his brain. He gave an awkward shrug, glancing at her briefly before hurriedly looking away, mumbling, "So I've heard."

Her mind flashed to Gran, a knot forming in her stomach, eyes growing distant. "But a tricky one to dodge."

Jerkily, Terry nodded. "Yes, ma'm."

Ma'm. Sookie arched her eyebrows at him, before flashing him a grin. "Ma'm? Huh." She wiggled her eyebrows flirtatiously. "Well, I've been called worse."

Terry looked extremely uncomfortable, cheeks flushed red. "Sorry, Sookie."

In bold contrast to Terry's quiet entrance, the door flew open, and Tara stalked in.

"Knocking," Sookie said, a bit sharply, feeling Terry start nervously beside her. There was something doe-like about his uncertainty. "Tis a thing of beauty, Tara."

Tara snorted, crossing her arms over her chest harshly. "So is your goddamn luck. Andy Bellefluer and Sheriff Dearborn are here to see you. What the fuck did you do this time?"

"I believe the words I'm looking for are, fuck you," Sookie sniped back before turning a kind smile on Terry as she turned and started backing up to the door, "If you want to hide in here from your cousin, I would totally understand."

Finishing her joking offer with a wink, Sookie twirled around and brushed by Tara, blonde hair flowing behind her. Tara followed after her, catching up easily with longer legs.

More seriously this time, Tara asked, "So why do they want to talk to you?

"Because she is gorgeous," Lafayette shouted as they passed the kitchen, wolf-whistling.

Sookie let out a short but sincere laugh. "You heard the man, Tara," she said, quirking her eyebrows up salaciously. "I am simply arrestable."

"You're fucking nuts," Tara said bluntly, but with amusement flaring in her dark eyes. "Try not to piss either of them off - I don't have enough cash to bail you out after that damn exorcism."

As the two of them came out of the back and out onto the main floor, Sookie pecked her friend's cheek before they parted ways. The bar had yet to be opened, though it was nearing opening time, so she spotted the two cops easily. Andy and Bud were sitting in an empty booth on the same side. They stood up when she approached them.

"Do you mind if we talk out here?" said Sookie, brushing a stray strand of hair out from her face. Since Lafayette had been around last night, it would be easier to grab him afterwards to get a broader view of everything. Though she was fairly sure Royce and his rednecks were responsible for the house burning down, she had been pretty swamped by all the orders.

"Er," Andy said, sharing a look with Bud. "Sure." He cleared his throat. "After the vampires left last night, did anyone seem unusually aggressive or violent?"

" . . . everyone in Bon Temps."

"Was there anybody in particular?" Bud pressed. "Did anybody express any plans to do this?"

"I was at the bar," Sookie told them. "Weirdly enough, everybody was pretty intent on gettin' drunk after they left. I did see Royce Williams and his cackling hyenas - Dumber and Dumbest - talking, but I'm not sure if that wasn't just talk."

"Anyone else?" Andy asked. His voice was like the grinding of clogs.

"If there was, they slipped under my radar."

* * *

><p>At 5 in the evening, Sookie dropped down on her couch and fell sideways, head hitting the plump cushions. Her eyes closed, a sigh slipping through her lips. Her mind ticked sedatedly away. Her brain ached faintly, twisted out of shape from all off the pressure dropping down on her. Home was safe enough for her real feelings to seep through.<p>

In reality, she didn't feel ready to haul herself up and snark carefully at Eric - but she had a feeling that would change soon enough.

Who needed coffee when there was amusement to send her crashing back into awareness?

But for now, Sookie let herself reflect.

The house was empty and hollow without Gran, especially with Tina with Jason. Pain swell through her body and stabbed sharply at her heart, stealing her breath. Her eyes stung and itched with tears.

Some feelings were too big and grand and scary to deal with. If she felt all the pain that resulted from Gran's death, it would shatter her into a million pieces. Sookie had already worked so goddamn hard to rebuild herself, and Gran had been so proud of that, but she knew there was no coming back from a second time.

The pain lapped at her hotly, like hungry flames, but she tried to breath through it, to make Gran proud. She felt a hard bite of fear, terrified of the pain increasing, and sat up sharply. Her dark eyes locked automatically onto the patch of floor where she had found Gran. The sharp twist of agony forced her to advert her gaze.

She didn't want this. She hated herself for not grieving, but she would give anything to avoid it.

It would make things irreversible.

Sookie swung her legs off the couch, blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. Gran had a grave. She hadn't been. She visited Sam, and tried to help Jason, but she hadn't seen Gran.

She wanted to see Gran.

Sookie stood up and padded out of sitting room into the hall. She pulled on her black sneakers clumsily, straightening up to shove her hair back. She snagged her keys, nervously wrapping them around her fingers, and walked out of the house. The warm air hit her face, stirring her loose hair faintly as she briskly locked the door behind her, and started walking.

It was close to dark, dozens of bugs sounded in the air, but it was warm. She kept her telepathy on a low level, enough for her to pick up on anybody approaching her - like, a certain killer. Sookie roughly shoved a hand through her hair, and quickened her pace. The stupidity in what she was doing jarred against her desire to see Gran.

More than anything, Sookie wanted to come home to Gran waiting up for her, knitting with Tina in her lap, like always. She needed - she wanted -

She wanted her eyes to stop burning, tears threatening to spill over.

Gran deserved to be mourned and missed but Sookie couldn't do that. She was selfish and it was too much, and surely, Gran wouldn't have wanted her to break.

Bend, break or don't, she recited, trying to calm herself.

The graveyard wasn't very far from her home. Some of the headstones were cracked and worn with age. The moon hung low and faint in the sky, a half-moon. The gate creaked when she shoved it open. She remembered telling Eric about her telepathy in this graveyard, and kissing him goodnight. Her heart had been racing with adrenaline and half-fear as she'd stretched up, pressing her lips to his stubbled cheek.

It was a far more pleasant thought than the last time she had been here.

A twinge in the back of her head froze Sookie in place for a split second, heart stopping, before she acted instinctively. There was an old, rusty shovel propped up against the side of the fence. The blonde telepath's hand shot out and grabbed it. There was a sound - air moving around an object very fast - a gray blur raced towards her at a worrying speed - vampire speed -

Her panic spiked higher, and she swung the shovel out furiously at the blur - and the blow collided with a sickening crack of bone - then a slam as a body hit the floor -

Swinging the shovel back in, golden hair in her face, standing just out of reaching distance, Sookie looked down at the body, half expecting to see one of the nesting vampires - probably Liam - and ready to bring the shovel down again when she recognized the figure.

"Bill?" Sookie cried incredulously, lowering the shovel slightly. A dozen questions were ready to spill out of her mouth when she finally saw him properly.

Bill Compton was sprawled on his back, choked pained noises leaving his mouth that suggested a broken rib and made her feel incredibly guilty. He was completely naked, corpse-grey skin caked in dirt.

"Argh!" Sookie cried, arm raising to cover her eyes before they, presumably, burst into flames and blazed right out of her skull. "Lord, Bill - why are you naked? And zombie-like! Are you gonna be okay?"

* * *

><p><strong>I was gone for almost two weeks, and I come back without Eric. But I swear I will make up for it - especially if you review nicely and tell me who you picture as CR!Sookie.<strong>

**Someone might find out Sookie's secret before S1 is over and done with. Thoughts?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**As my polls says, I've been considering showing earlier (or missing) scenes of CR!Sookie's life, so check that out and post a vote. Feel free to offer suggections or requests in PMs or reviews.**

**Especially reviews.**

* * *

><p>There was a strange sound - like a crack muffled by the meaty slide of flesh - before Bill rasped out a pained response, "I...shall be fine."<p>

"That sounds plausible," Sookie said dryly.

With her arm firmly in front of her eyes, she shifted her wrist, so she could see Bill's face. His expression was contorted in agony, throat bobbing in a painful swallow. She frowned, guilt prickly over her skin like poison ivy, but she kept a tight hold of the shovel. "Yeah, you don't look it either."

"I will recover," Bill groaned, zombie-grey skin stretching into a pained grimace.

"Need me to push anything back in?" It worked for the pretty blonde girl in Heroes.

When it came to vampire physiology, Sookie was rather lacking in knowledge. Most of her information was, in fact, second hand and viewed through a film of prejudice. Dawson had little care for vampire biology beyond the addictive date-rape quality of their blood and how to defend his pack from rogue vampires looking for a bloodbath.

Bill stared up at her. She raised her eyebrows at him before he finally realized she was waiting for an answer, and shook his head carefully. "My ribs...will repair themselves...shortly..."

Sookie nodded. She backed away to sit down on a tombstone, ready to fly to her feet at the slightest sign of a threat. She positioned the shovel to block the sight of Bill's groin, let her arm drop from her eyes and looked at his face.

He shifted stiffly in the dirt, teeth gritted as he grunted out, almost angrily, "Why did you attack me?"

"Why did you run at me?" she retorted tartly before her voice took on a faintly condescending note, "C'mon, Bill - you've known me for a few days now, what did you _expect_ me to do?"

"I did not expect you to forget all reason, and attempt to defend yourself from me," Bill said, somehow managing to infuse his words with a sleezy politeness though his voice was stiff and hitched with pain.

Though she had been faintly concerned for him before, Sookie felt her annoyance returning quickly. It was so much easier to tolerate Bill when he wasn't around, and wasn't managing to irritate her with every _single_ word leaving his mouth. He was maddeningly smug.

"Bill," Sookie said pointedly, twirling her wrist in a graceful gesture, alluding to their situation. A haughty look of distaste flashed across Bill's face at the term, just like she'd expected it to. "You did not win this round."

Bill's expression contorted into an unreadable though clearly unpleasant expression before twisting viciously in pain - there was another meaty cracking sound, like his ribs were slowly snapped back into place. It felt incredibly sadistic to sit on the sidelines and simply watch him struggle like this, but considering the vampire-hating killer strolling around, it would be worse to leave him in such a weakened state.

"I was unprepared," Bill bit out, exhaling with a grunt of pain, almost loud enough to become a cry. "I assumed...you would recognize...me."

Sookie lowered her head, and shot him a look of incredulity. "Bill, when a grey _blur_ rushes at me in a _graveyard_, I tend to think _oh, shit, zombie _rather than _ah_, _my neighbour is _... actually, what were you doing?" A thought occurred to her, and made her flinch slightly. Unlike Eric, Bill should be wearing clothes at all times for the sake of her stomach. "Are you a nudist?"

"Of course not!" Bill sounded outraged and disgusted by the very idea. Sookie was tempted to divulge her one strange experience with a nudist colony simply to see how he reacted but she grudgingly cut him some slack right now. "After I received your text message, I tried to return home, but it was too close to dawn for me to finish my journey."

Sookie saw several huge holes in his story, and darkly wondered exactly what it said about Bill's opinion of her that he assumed she would buy it. She was used to people thinking poorly of her intelligence because of her comical disposition and waitressing job. Most women were forced to act stern and humorless to gather the appropriate respect. It was a maddening thing, but it was occassionally useful.

Like now.

"Let me get this straight," Sookie said slowly, evenly, knuckles whitening around the shovel, "Instead of running to your home, less than half a mile from here, at vamp speed, you decided digging yourself a grave and then somehow burying yourself again would be the fastest option?" The comical note of disbelief in her voice hardened seriously. "And you've been dodging my question - you lunged at me, why?"

Bill was silent on the floor before he let out a loud, shrill groan, the crack of bones snapping back into place filling the air. Sookie looked down at him unflinchingly. He was injured, and she was in an excellent position to bring the shovel down on his neck if he made a move towards her. Her heart beat steadily in her chest but only because she willed it to. Her stomach was twisted in a big reluctant knot.

She didn't want to kill anybody, but if she waited too long, Bill would be healed, and her advantage would disappear.

"Try again, honey," Sookie said promptly, a sickly sweet note ringing unsincerely in her voice. Her golden hair was stirred by a change in the wind, cooling her cheeks.

"I know Eric Northman has taken an interest in you," Bill rasped, pain roughening his voice. He tried to sit up, lifting himself a few inches off the ground before flopping weakly back down. "He is a vicious, bloodthirsty _savage_. He has no regard for human life, viewing them as mere cattle!" his accent thickened with rage and heat as he spoke. "He will use you for his own personal gain, and then toss you aside as soon as it pleases him!"

Sookie took note of the aggression in Bill's voice - jealousy of Eric's promiscuous charm?

Before she could think more on it, Bill softened his voice, like he was talking to a frightened doe-like child rather than the woman who had saved his life within five minutes after they had met - "You are not safe with him, Sookie. I wish only to protect you from him."

There was a note of beseeching in his voice, almost pleading, but Sookie sensed decite. Not a complete lie, he did fear Eric's interest in her, but the truth was twisted expertly.

Sookie wasn't a trusting person nor a naive one. She knew Eric was a brutal killer, that any sense of morals he had were far different from her own, but he was far from the senseless animal Bill seemed to think of him as. The blonde vampire was clever, no matter how little he seemed to think of human beings. She didn't doubt that Eric threw people - vampires and humans - away when he was done with them.

He liked her, he wanted her, and she would never stop being useful to him. Her instincts gave a tentative thumbs up when it came to him.

Bill, on the other hand...

A series of memories clicked together in her mind. He had given her a bad feeling from the start. It was interesting how quickly he had arrived after the Rattarys had tried to attack her, and how a trio of perverted vampires happened to be at his place the night she'd told him she would deliver a bunch of information in exchange for his presence at the DGD meeting.

Why, if a certain vampire had saved her, it would have sent her maidenly heart all aflutter.

He had been suspiciously interested in her since the beginning.

She was sure there were other pieces of evidence she'd overlooked in an attempt to be fair, but in the end, Sookie didn't need anything else. She suspected her instincts were supernatually enhanced. It was rare they were wrong.

Currently, her instincts twined with common sense and ordered her to stall any major reactions.

If Bill did have an agenda that involved her (logic suggested her telepathy, though _how_ could he know about that?), he would keeping trying to win her trust.

That would, by proxy, put him in her corner - a sleezy snake in the grass. That could be useful. She needed to talk to Dawson - even if they were at odds, he would help her - and gain his insight into matters before acting. For now, she would soften her abrasive personality _just_ so towards Bill, like she actually believed him but not enough for it to be implausible.

"I don't need to be protected," Sookie said, deliberately weaving a note of petulance in her voice.

"Sookie," Bill said, trying for sage and dignified, coming out condescending and paternal. Even though he was filthy and naked. "Eric Northman is far more dangerous than two drug addicts."

"Then how do you expect to protect me from him?" she asked bluntly, alluding to his inability to handle the Rattarys. Considering how 'forgetful' Bill seemed to be, she added more blatantly, throwing her voice defensively, "You know, considering how your first night in Bon Temps panned out."

It was lucky snark was one of her trademark - therefore, expected - personality traits. It would have been a waste to miss the chance to throw that in his face.

Bill gritted his teeth, bitterness and anger flaring across is face, vague in the dark, before his expression was taken over by pain. Despite her theories, Sookie felt a twinge of sympathy and the gaze of guilt at the sound he made. She wasn't a monster.

"You have no idea of the lengths Eric will go to in order to possess a talent such as yours!" Bill shouted, voice harshened with stung pride and pain.

The words spun around her head, hitting her hard. Her dark eyes widened a frantion, expression stiffening in shock. Her hands tightened on the shovel, muscles coiling in her arms. "Talent?" she repeated, a leaden weight to her words.

Bill pushed himself up, finally managing to sit. "Bon Temps is filled with rumours," he grunted roughly, pain twisting his mouth. "I would not have believed any of them had you not revealed yourself by warning Eric of the raid at Fangtasia. I assume he spared your life in exchange for use of your gifts."

As gravely as Bill had underestimated her, she had done the same. The knowledge stung bitterly, and the pity in his face was salt in the wound. It snapped her out of her disbelieving mindset. If _any_ vampire believed she could read them, her life expectancy - which was hardly high in the first place - shortened drastically.

"My gifts don't work on vampires," Sookie said plainly, having carefully noted Bill's unspecific wording.

The rumours about her said _psychic_, not _telepath._

"But they do work on humans," Bill pointed out urgently, like this could not have occurred to her before."Eric has already begun acting against your best interests! By allowing me to heal Sam despite the laws against such use of our blood, he is trying to make you feel indebted to him! You cannot trust him!"

Sookie clamped down on her reaction - shock and a dawning stir of anger in her blood. Until now, she'd had no idea that using their blood to heal someone was illegal to vampires. Eric hadn't told her. Maybe he intended to down the line, but did that really matter? Sam would have died if Bill hadn't offered, and if Eric had stuck to the law.

Hearing Bill slandering him wasn't unexpected, but it was unwanted.

It wasn't that Sookie trusted Eric unconditionally, but she did feel a certain kinship to him. Shared humor and amusing banter. And she couldn't forget Eric lifting her out of her Gran's blood easy. She was _far_ more inclined to trust Eric than Bill.

She knew Eric wouldn't harm her. It would be bad business, and she thought he might like her enough to avoid screwing her over unless there was no other option. She wasn't swayed by Bill's thinly veiled attempts at convincing her Eric was the biggest threat to her but she was too cautious to forget that Eric was a very cunning man.

Which was admirable as long as they were on the same level. Though considering she still hadn't found the time to dig up that damn contract and someone who knew more about the supernatural world than her to make sure she didn't mess up, it wouldn't surprise her too much if Eric sought another way to tie her to him.

The rational thing would be to test Bill, and give herself some - though _incredibly _dubious - advice at the same time tonight. It was a risky gamble, but that was the point of gambling.

"You're right," Sookie said quietly as though in realization, the lie curdling on her tongue but never touching her face.

For all her bluntness, she was a damn fine liar.

* * *

><p>The bathroom filled slowly with steam, old pipes creaking faintly through the house. Under the spray of water, Sookie turned her actions over in her mind critically. There was a certain element of stupidity in letting Bill tag along with what she suspected of him but if she was correct, she needed to know as soon as possible. Tonight was a perfect time to test him. The bar was draining a bunch of her free time, so it might be awhile before she had another chance like this.<p>

And trusting Eric unquestionably, she reminded herself, was far from wise.

It was difficult to remember that when she thought about the silken texture of his blonde hair as she rubbed shampoo into his scalp. Less than 24 hours ago, he had allowed her to get behind him, and she had enjoyed the strange intimacy of washing his hair. But she wouldn't let that soften her.

Sookie sighed, head rolling back, water narrowly avoiding her eyes, and tried to do the Math.

Eric had presumably arrested the nesting vampires with only her word as evidance. The night of Gran's death, he had beaten a group of werewolves up and left them bloody in the street. But the werewolves had started that fight. He had kicked a human across the room for touching him, but she did pretty much the same thing. He glamoured Jason, but Jason had come into his bar while high off V. Eric had kidnapped her, but he had let Bill save Sam.

Eric Northman was a complicated person, damn near impossible to comprehend.

It itched at the blonde that she was basing her logic regarding Bill on speculative theories. But until she had a better idea of things, acting decisively would be unwise. She would stick with the plan.

After scrubbing the lingering scents of cheap beer and cigarette smoke from her skin, Sookie climbed out of the shower and dried herself off before applying a cherry-scented moisturizer all over her body. She wrapped her body up in a large white towel and moved back into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed. Her golden hair stuck to her skin slightly, already beginning to dry in clumsy half curls.

Sookie rolled over to her front to avoid dripping on her white sheets before snagging her cell from the bedside table and scrolling down her contacts list for Dawson's number. Her fingerprints were hot from the shower, leaving faint marks on the buttons. A name caught her eye - Eric Northman.

Unlike Dawson, Eric's knowledge wouldn't be castrated by his dislike of vampires.

Unlike Dawson, Eric wouldn't answer her questions with the _condition _that she never told him why she needed to know unless she was ended up in trouble.

Unlike Eric, Dawson was mad at her.

Unlike Eric, Dawson was mad at her.

Unlike Eric, Dawson had known her for ten years and might recruit the pack if he thought Bill was a threat to her.

Considering her status as Friend of the Pack, they would come. Right now, that would just be an unnecessary war. If an offical pack of werewolves attacked and killed a vampire, Eric would have to get involved. It would turn into a bloodbath.

Her friends in the pack could be killed. Eric might be fine, but that wasn't definite. The number of oblivious humans killed in the crossfire would be huge. Sookie felt a small chill at the very idea - calling Dawson wasn't an option anymore.

"Sookie Stackhouse," Eric drawled out, dark voice caressing her name slowly. If she had been wearing panties, they would have exploded into scraps of lace. "What can I do for you?"

Sookie grinned, a tart amusement rising through her. "You could tell me everything you know about Bill Compton."

There was a brief silence from the other end of the line. "Bill Compton," Eric stated, almost contemplatively, but his voice was mostly unreadable. "Why not ask him yourself? He appears quite taken with you."

An interesting element dwelled in his voice in the very slight pause before he described Bill's supposed feelings for her.

"Because I'm _not_ looking for a lump of pretty-worded bullshit," Sookie answered brightly. Her mind caught briefly, like a jagged nail, on a worry - what if Eric was involved? - before she dismissed it somewhat hesitantly.

Eric chuckled darkly. "Bill Compton does seem the type, doesn't he?"

"So do we," Sookie pointed out in an amusing voice.

"Yes," he agreed, sandpaper rough voice not quite so disinterested anymore. "You are aware of the similarities between us."

It wasn't a question, more of a statement testing her reaction.

She could have denied it or dodged the question or made a flippant joke about wishing she had his height rather than her small stature, but she didn't. They were alike in some ways - enough for her to know he wasn't looking for feigned offense at the idea or a small joke twisted with a compliment.

"It would be pretty difficult to overlook them," Sookie acknowledged truthfully, a wry note bleeding through in her voice.

It figured she had more personality traits in common with a thousand-year-old vampire than with any human she had ever met.

"Very well," Eric said finally. "I know very little about Bill Compton's origins. He was turned during the final days of the civil war by a vampire named Lorena Krasiki. She is considered deranged even by vampire standards. They travelled together for several decades, recklessly leaving exsanguinated corpses in their trail." A faint note of irritated crept into his voice, at their sloppiness, before fading back into disinterest. "They seperated sometime in the 1930s."

Sookie digested that quickly, trying not to let the whole exsanguinated corpses thing unnerve her too much. If she began to fear Bill, she might freeze up if he attacked her. Rather than lingering on the few pieces of information Eric had left her, she focused on what he hadn't given her.

She was no closer to discovering if Bill was actually a problem or not.

"Do you know where Bill was before he came to Bon Temps?" Sookie asked, already knowing the answer.

"Unfortunately, I do not," Eric answered smooth, like she had expected. "Why the sudden interest in Bill Compton? I remember your distaste for him quite...vividly."

Sookie reached up to run a hand through her hand. The sheer fact that he was helping her made him entitled to the truth, but she wasn't quite ready to tell Eric just yet. It sounded far-fetched, and she wasn't sure how to explain all the little details that made her even consider the idea. Maybe she was snapping under the pressure, and finally going crazy with undeserved paranoia.

Somehow, Sookie felt unready to dismiss the idea completely.

Still, it seemed self-centered to assume Bill had an agenda against her. There were very few people truly aware of her telepathy, and none of them were fond of spreading that information around. It was crazy and paranoid and arrogant of her to think it.

But there was one thing that struck her as odd, even chalking her theory up to a fit of egoistic paranoia.

"It seems a little coincidental that the day after Bill arrives in town, people start turning up dead," Sookie told him.

"A vampire needs an invitation to enter a home owned by humans," Eric reminded her, a note of coolness in his voice. In truth, Sookie hadn't forgotten, but it was the only thing she could think of saying that wasn't an outright lie. "The next time you attempt to lie to me - try harder."

Sookie hesitated, a faint twist of guilt in her stomach. As far as she could tell, Eric had never lied to her, and the only thing he had withheld from her was about Sam. Despite what she wanted, she did trust him somewhat, and it was clear he had expected her to tell the truth.

"I'm sorry," she said simply. Eric was silent, so she continued. "And thank you."

"You're welcome," Eric said simply.

Sookie lingered on the line for a moment before picking a slightly joking finish to their conversation. She expected the delivery to be delayed until the delivery boy realized risking angering a vampire by not finishing his job was worse than delivering the flowers - but it was a little past six which was when she had ordered the delivery for.

Her voice took a turn for light and playful, "Don't eat the messenger."

Before Eric could respond, she hung up and swung her legs over the bed, clutching the towel to her chest as she moved over to the closest.

_Wear white_, Eric had said.

A wicked smile tugged at her mouth.

Sookie picked out a casual though pretty dress in the color of a mulled red, closer to the rare red-sky rather than wine or blood. The dress clung to her clevage, and her hips, outlining her shape attractively but not obscenely. After brushing her hair, allowing it to remain extremely wavy, she began to apply her make up. Dark mascara, slight pink blush to her cheeks, soft red lipstick.

Her necklace was silver with a diamond embedded S as the pendant hanging between her breasts. Though it sounded like something a lover would do, Dawson had brought it for her when she turned sixteen as a protective measure. It had ended up at the bottom of her jewellery box somehow. She wore her only pair of silver earrings everyday.

Her phone began to ring. The caller ID read Eric Northman.

After spraying her pulse point with her favourite perfume of lillies, Sookie shifted her skirt up to her thigh and stretched a leg out. Her skin glowed with a healthy tan and shone from the moisturizer. She snapped a picture of her leg like that and teasingly sent it to Eric. A pre-emptive apology for Bill's presence tonight.

And a nice distraction from remembering how Gran had teased her as she carefully applied her lipstick for the first night she had gone to Fangtasia.

For a moment, Sookie lingered before the mirror and studied her reflection. It looked more like a subtle invitation than an attempt to dress up for him - it looked like the tease it was. She chose to wear a small pair of heels, an innocent white to match her undergarments.

At that thought, her reflection grinned, reddened lips parting to show her teeth.

* * *

><p>The car drive passed quickly by. Bill seemed to be brooding, looking soulfully out of the window shield while Sookie listened to the radio, and tried to let the strange music drown out her thoughts. But the music wasn't light and dancing, softly beautiful like Eric's had been. It was simply bizzare. She spent most of the ride torn between trying to figure out what the hell she was listening to, and trying to keep an eye on Bill.<p>

She hated being in an enclosed space with someone she didn't trust almost as much as she was beginning to hate this stupid idea.

Logic suggested Bill wasn't about to flip out on her for being silent for once, after how many times she had accidentally insulted him or deliberately took shoots at his pride. At this rate, Sookie was seriously beginning to wonder why someone hadn't tried to kill her before recently.

As a human being, she was emotionally closed off, overly sarcastic and snarky to the point of suicide - a tragedy in the middle of a juicy part.

She had lost Gran, and she was losing any respect for herself by refusing to mourn, but she wasn't dead yet, and there was always more to lose.

Bill's car pulled up outside of Fangtasia and parked. The lot was empty except for a blazing hooker red corvette. Bill scoffed at the sight of the car.

"Red isn't your color?" Sookie asked, a smirk slotting effortlessly on her face. _Why, no, I have no insane suspicions about you at all! This is reality after all, I am a simple telepath and you are an inexplicably irritating vampire - nothing to see here._

Even her inner voice was a smartass.

"I am vampire," Bill said, like she could have managed not to notice this with the superspeed and fangs.

"I was being ironic and - okay, not so witty - but still."

Bill looked at her, narrowing his eyes before looking out at Fangtasia. "I do not like his ego," he said forcefully.

It shouldn't have sounded so petulant and grumpy but somehow, it simply came out like that.

"Ironic," Sookie repeated, grin dashing across her face. Bill snapped his head in her direction, very clearly offended. She popped the car door open, twisting her expression into an overly pretty pout.

"I thought the ego made the vampire," she finished with an almost taunting innocence in her voice. Bill frowned at her, so irritated it was close to a scowl, brows furrowing as he made to say something, but before he could, Sookie swung her legs out of the car and climbed out, shutting the door with a jerk of her hips.

She saw Bill sighing through the window before he opened his own door, exiting the car and pointedly closing the door properly. Sookie ignored the snide little gesture, figuring if he was so desperate for her to close the door like a _proper young lady_ he would say it aloud, so she could shoot off a sarcastic retort.

In the interest of seeming realistic, of course.

Though, she might listen since it was _his_ car. And she wasn't that rude. Even with her suspicious, there was a line between snappy and bratty.

Automatically, Sookie waited a moment for him to meet her before setting off across the parking lot. Though her legs were short, her natural walk was quick and brisk, filled with energy, so she found herself slowing to match Bill's sedated pace. She had done that for Gran, though for far different reasons; she didn't want to give Bill her back.

She could see the dark door to Fangtasia, proclaiming the door was closed. She was wearing a denium jacket with her casual orange-red dress in case the Louisiana heat took on an unexpected chill, and she felt glad for it as the air changed, sweeping up her hair.

"Should we knock?" Sookie wondered, glancing aside at Bill. "Walk in? Break a window and slide in? God, I would hate to be someone that accidentally broke into a vampire's place. Do I - no, wait, I really don't want to know. So, knock or walk?"

The expression of total bewilderment on Bill's face at the minor ramble brought a broad grin to Sookie's.

Eventually, he managed to blink himself out of it. "I assume walking in would be expected."

So vampires, not much for the whole personal space deal.

She wasn't surprised.

Before Bill could do it for her, Sookie pulled open the door, noting how easy that had been. If she had been holding a meeting (or whatever) in Merlotte's, she would have used the back door, but considering how blatant it was that _Fangtasia_ was owned by vampires...

Yeah.

Sookie stepped tentatively into the spider's web, and looked around, absently holding the door open for Bill, once again keeping her back from him. Bill seemed discomforted by the gesture, more because of the reversed gender roles than because he was catching onto her own discomfort, but he did move by her into the club.

Fangtasia was the same clash of black and red, running together to create a morbid though slightly tacky establishment. Though it had been far from impressive the night she had met Eric, the club seemed almost absurd in better lighting.

There was a terrified man sitting at one of the tables, a worrying flush of red to his face, skin glistening with sweat. Sookie felt an instinctive pull of sympathy for him, expression softening a fraction before closing back up again. Her dark eyes slid to the three vampires in the room.

Longshadow was standing behind the bar, hands braced down on the wood. Bill was beside her. Leaning up against the bar, Pam was wearing grey suit pants, a pale pink sweater, and a stunning pair of heels. The female vampire pushed off the bar, and stalked toward them.

Sookie met her halfway, and told her, "You look good in pink."

Pam smirked. "I know." Her blue eyes dragged down over Sookie's form slowly and with obvious appreciation that brought Eric to mind. "Mmm." The vampire's eyes lingered on her cleavage. "Aren't you lovely in red?"

Sookie blinked at her, eyes wide and guileless. "All the better to distract you with, my dear."

There was a certain dark element of irony in the Big Bad Wolf referrence.

Sookie held her innocent expression in place while Pam smirked, a glint of amusement in her hard, cynical eyes. Bill stood stiffly by her side, clearly uncomfortable with the small exchange. The telepath recalled Bill telling her about Pam keeping him from checking up on her after Eric decided that kidnapping was an awesome way to end his night.

"Eric wants a word with you in his office," Pam informed her, voice unhurried and unconcerned. Her eyes flickered boredly to Bill as she added pointedly, "_Alone_."

Bill puffed himself up, looking ridiciously like a tiny owl fluffing its feathers up. "Sookie - "

"Okay," Sookie said, blocking Bill's next words off before she could lose her temper. She tried not to think about Bruce

"Through the back," Pam drawled, using her hand to indicate the way.

"Thanks," Sookie said briefly. She glanced at Bill briefly, amused by the tension in his face as he looked at her, before following Pam's vague instructions. As she walked by, she felt Longshadow's gaze drilling into her, and she threw him a sarcastic wink before disappearing through the side door.

It was the same corridor the four of them had used to dodge the police raid. The door to Eric's office was at the end of the building, close to the the back exit. Sookie tried the door to find it unlocked, and pushed it open, stepping into the room.

Eric was sitting behind his desk, extremely long legs perched up on his desk. As usual, he was dressed in dark clothes, muscular arms bared to her interested eyes. His ice-blue eyes locked on her figure, and darkened in approval. There was a flower arrangement of beautiful white roses beside his feet.

Sookie smiled at him, amusement glowing in her eyes, ready to quip - but Eric shot across the room until he was standing before her, stooping to catch her eyes. He touched her hip, a brief ghost of contact through the thin material of her dress. Her stomach flipped, and her heart jumped, startled by the abrupt touch.

"This color suits you very well," Eric purred, large hand moving slowly around her waist to the small of her back.

Sookie felt a small start when she realized how big his hand was - how long his fingers were. Her body reacted to this realisation with a deep throb of lust between her legs, almost aching from the abrupt turn in emotions. She looked up at him, about to kill the moment, before she noticed the look in his eyes. It was dark and unexpected. His touch burned through her clothing, into her skin and into her spine.

"It almost makes up for seeing Compton on your arm."

Sookie tilted her head to the side, and raised her eyebrows up at him. "What, do you have X-Ray vision _now_?"

"No, I have CTV cameras," Eric corrected her crisply.

"It always throws me when supposedly mythical creatures use technology," Sookie said to excuse her bizzare theory.

Eric's thumb dug into her spine, and he lowered his head, a flare of impatience in his ice-blue eyes. "_Sookie_."

"I accidentally hit him with a shovel," Sookie admitted.

Eric's eyes sharpened dangerously. "And then?"

Sookie hesitated, and a storm brewed in his gaze. She didn't want to lie to Eric, but she wasn't prepared to risk telling him the truth either. Her suspicion was bizzare but if it happened to be true, she couldn't be sure about Eric - not enough.

Not yet.

Maybe one day.

It seemed unlikely, but the fact that she - Sookie Issues Stackhouse - was even considering it was a miracle in itself.

Sookie looked up at Eric, needing to tilt her head up even when he lowered himself for her, and said; "What happened to the other vampires?"

Eric stared at her intently, his eyes drilling remorselessly into hers but she held firm, despite the shift of nerves in her gut. It was unnerving to be looked at with such searing intensity.

"They will be dealt with," he said eventually, his voice dispassionate about the nesting vampires. "Harshly."

An uncertain pinch between her eyebrows, Sookie nodded. She felt like she should feel strongly one way or another about that, but it felt like a line through a problem. Briefly, she wondered exactly where the three vampire were before deciding she didn't want to know. Her thoughts turned to the human ashes discovered in the ruins of the burned down house, but it was unlikely that Eric would either know or care.

Like he wouldn't care about Bruce. She could feel the human's panic hammering at her mind frantically, all but begging her for help. It softened her stony heart like only sincerity could.

"Speaking of dealin' with things, I think your accountant is about to have a heart attack - which would _kind_ of make reading his mind a little difficult - "

"That would be inconvenient," Eric remarked, a trivial note to his husky voice. His ice-blue eyes continued to burn into her, showing where his attention truly laid, but he did shift, hand moving from the small of her beck, ready to brush by her.

"Wait," she said, holding up her hands to stall him. She shifted back in front of him, feet planted firmly into the ground, and looked up at him, dark eyes fierce. Eric stopped, a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth. His eyebrows arched while his eyes lowered, looking her over once again.

"Promise me, you will _actually _hand whoever did this over to the police instead of chewing on them."

"We've had this conversation before," Eric stated, a faint, dry amusement weaving through his voice.

"And now, we're having it again," Sookie said, nudging him lightly in the shin with the edge of her heel. Despite herself, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

For a deadman, the life in his eyes could rival the one in hers.

Eric looked down at her leg, the healthy glow of her tanned skin, exactly like in the picture she'd impulsively sent him.

"Very well," he said as though simply indulging her, flickering his eyes back to hers, a sardonic slant to his expression. He gestured to the door with a broad sweep of his hand, and Sookie turned, opening the door before walking out of his office. She held the door automatically for Eric, who looked amused.

It was an interesting contrast. Bill had been uncomfortable with the little gesture, and Sookie had been dreading turning her back on him for even a second. It was funny with Eric.

The small detail stuck in her attention in an oddly vivid way. It made her aware of other small gestures she tended to overlook.

Eric's strides were long and graceful, an unflinching stalk, but she noticed that he slowed slightly for her. Considering how he had allowed her to sit behind him and wash his hair, she assumed it was for the same reason she slowed for Gran. Or maybe not.

For Gran, Sookie had wanted to see the expressions on her face as they spoke.

Eric opened the door to the club for her, and she smirked knowingly, dipping her knees in a mock curtsy before slipping out ahead of him and into the tense silence in the club. As she walked over to the seat across from Bruce, Sookie looked between Pam, Longshadow, and Bill.

"Awkward," she noted, sitting in the chair. She was highly aware that her back was to the three vampires.

Eric came to stand at Bruce's shoulder, towering over the man. His expression was stony and deadly, an almost feral element of violence to it. Sookie flickered a look at the tall vampire before turning her gaze to Bruce. He looked utterly terrified, wilting in the chair, sweat slick on his skin.

Sookie reached over, and took his hand. It would make her powers look weaker, and it was the compassionate thing to do. Bruce startled at the slight contact, thoughts buzzing frantically through her head with an animal terror, and his dull brown eyes snapped jerkily to her face.

"Calm down," Sookie said firmly, catching his gaze and holding it. Her dark eyes drilled into his head forcefully. She felt a strange sensation falling over Bruce's mind, a calming lull, like from an outside presence. It felt heavy and mystical.

It was coming from her.

Shock ripped through her mind, and the tentative hold loosened until she focused again, trying to keep Bruce calm by forcing herself to shelf that briefly. Keeping her expression soft but firm, Sookie waited until Bruce met her eyes, easily seeing the remaining fear lingering under the hold.

"Do you steal their money?"

"No," Bruce said. The question seemed to shatter through whatever was happening. His terror flooded back in. "No, no. You gotta believe me, I didn't do it, I swear - "

"Hey, hey," Sookie said, a bit sharply to reclaim his attention. Bruce fell silent, and looked at her desperately. He was pleading with her for help. Her insides knotted together, stomach swooping almost sickeningly, before she took a deep breath and smiled at him. "C'mon, calm down before my brain is _slushified_ and starts _gushing_ out of my ears."

Bruce's expression took on a faint furrow of confusion at the words but she kept talking before he could start wondering, "Do you know who did?"

Bruce grimaced, looking down, and shook his head. "No."

_Wish I did - I'd turn that fucker in so fast - couldn't be Ginger, she's too dumb, though hot as shit -_

Sookie blocked his thoughts out, and looked up at Eric. "He's tellin' the truth," she told him, cocking her head to the side. "One down, how many more to go?"

"You trust a skinny human to clear the fat one?" Longshadow demanded insultingly.

Eric lifted his gaze from her, and looked at the other vampire dangerously, evidently unamused by the implied incompetence. Sookie twisted around in her seat, bracing her elbow on the back of the chair, and arched her eyebrows up acidly.

"What does weight have to do with - well, pretty much _anything_ right now?" she asked, distaste shining clearly through in her voice before sharpening with indignance. "Also; _skinny_?"

From the corner of her eye, Eric smirked faintly. "Bring the next one in."

The next one was an eeriely skinny blonde woman in a tiny boob-tube and a small denium skirt. Sookie stopped herself from making a joke about Longshadow mixing them up, but the woman reminded her oddly of Hadley. As a teenager, Hadley used to dress like that. Her cousin had been bulimic, just as unhealthy and sickly skinny looking.

Sookie felt a strange pang in her stomach at the memory, a ghost of the horror she'd felt as she watched her cousin disappearing like that. Until Hadley had found drugs and actually went MIA.

"Mmm," the blonde woman said in a supposedly seductive voice, looking over Sookie's shoulder at Bill. "Yummy."

Sookie grinned in amusement, catching a glimpse of Bill's seemingly perpetually uncomfortable expression.

"Ginger, this woman has some questions for you." Eric's voice was coldly patronizing, like an adult talking to a slow child. Sookie realized to him, that was probably exactly what it _was_ like. Pam forcefully stubbed out Ginger's cigarette in the ashtray. "Be a good girl and answer them, hm?"

"Aye, aye, master," Ginger simpered.

"Master?" Sookie repeated in disbelief, unable to help the amused grin cracking across her face as she shot Eric a look. Eric's gaze slid to her, a few shades darker than usual but his expression was not angry, so much as intrigued. The blonde shook her head - _not going to happen_ - and turned her attention back to Ginger.

Since by now it was expected, Sookie reached for her hand carefully, but Ginger jerked back as though she had been stung. "Don't you touch me."

Sookie paused, feeling a deep stab of sympathy for the resistance. She didn't like to be touched. It simply wasn't something she had ever been particularly comfortable with. Lately, she was letting herself be touched more, but if someone went to touch her at the wrong moment - well, her fuse started sparking at the very idea.

When someone didn't want to be touched, they should never be forced into it. No matter the reasons or intents behind each of those actions, that was one of the things Sookie felt strongly about.

"Believe me, honey, I'm about as _ecstatic _about this as you are," Sookie said sarcastically, tucking a wavy strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She rolled her eyes up to Eric's face. "I can do this without touching her."

"Then why did you have to touch the other one?" Longshadow demanded.

"Because it's easier to focus on someone like that," Sookie retorted in a bland tone that showed _exactly_ what she thought of his pitiful attempt at troubling her. She kept her gaze on Eric.

Eric gave a short shallow nod downat Sookie, encouraging her to go ahead. There was a oddity in his eyes, a shift that had happened when she'd reacted to Ginger's protest. Like the strange hold over Bruce, Sookie tucked it away to worry about later.

"What are you talkin' about?" Ginger asked nervously.

Sookie absently drummed her fingernail on the ashtray in a steady pace, shifting her eyes from Eric to Ginger. "Well, someone stole money from the bar," she replied in a casual voice, tilting her head to one side. "Do you know anything about that?"

Ginger stiffened. "No."

As the other woman's thoughts poured in, Sookie flinched - static roared in her ears like a bellow - a memory slipped and slivered out of her grasp, writhing for freedom -

_Don't look at me you fucking bitch - I didn't do nothing - _

After visiting Sam at the hospital, Sookie had dipped into Jason's head, searching for the memory of what he'd said to Eric. The theory had been that while the glamour might stop Jason's brain from remembering, it wouldn't stop her from seeing, but it had. The effect had been exactly the same. She had almost crashed her car.

It was a vampire.

Sookie couldn't quite control her expression at this realization, hand shifting automatically to grip the ashtray anxiously.

_- I'll beat the shit out of you if you say I did - _

"That sounds like fun," Sookie said in a wry tone, like she hadn't realized a single thing.

She intended to tell Eric later, when she didn't have three vampires at her back, but there was a problem with vampires. They were _fast_. For one instant, the expression on her face had been very clear - realization.

Eric shifted, angling for a better look at her face, but there was the roar of something tearing through the air very, very fast. Instinct forced Sookie to jump up and twist around - hands closed around her throat - and then they were pulling back, a roar of pain in the air - and Sookie swung the ashtray brutally, blinded by speed - the glass crashed into an object and shattered violently -

A second bellow hit the air, and Sookie drew her legs up then kicked out furiously, her heel slammed into the cluster of nerves just under his hipbone - her hands flew out, trying to push him away as the vampire began to crumble, before a different animalistic snarl joined the frantic fray - Longshadow was ripped away from her and flung head first into the bar with such force that the wood splintered.

For a split second, Sookie saw straight - Eric was standing over Longshadow, his fangs down, a crazed expression of livid _rage_ on his face -

Then there was another sound, the snap of wood - her breath sucked in, fear and panic spiking wildly - _Eric_ - and then Bill hauled Longshadow up, thrust a stake down, and -

Blood shot through the air, and Sookie instinctively snapped her head in the other direction. The blood crashed into her side, drenching her in thick, hot waves that scorched her skin like acid and fire. Her jaw clenched shut, eyes screwing closed - and it felt _just like Gran's_ on her skin -

Ginger was screaming wildly, raw panic and horror in her voice, but Sookie simply tried to keep breathing. Her heart raced in her chest, so fast that she expected it to explode into a bloody pulp, and her stomach swished violently, but she wasn't going to throw up - _she wasn't _-

This wasn't Gran's blood.

After a moment that stretched on forever, the violent gushing of blood stopped. There was a choked gurgling snarl - a death rattle, she knew instinctively - and then droplets of blood splattered all over her legs.

Ginger continued to scream. The vampires were silent. Slowly, Sookie opened her eyes, and looked at them. Eric was looking at Bill with an unreadable expression yet there was a faint twist of victory about him - Bill looked strange - afraid -

An uncontrollable shake moved through her muscles, and there was a sting of shocking pain from her leg that jolted the lingering haze from her vision. The slivers of glass from the ashtray must have glanced her -

Bill's expression stilled, focused. Eric glanced at him sharply. In a blink, one long, muscular arm flew out, and Bill was easily sent soaring through the air with a shout - exactly like that man from her first visit from Fangtasia -

Sookie flinched at the abrupt movement, swallowing the lump in her throat. She heard Pam's heels on the floor, moving away from her - her dark eyes widened as Bill landed, hitting the floor with a sickening thump. If possible, Ginger's screams increased.

"No screaming, Miss Stackhouse?" Eric inquired.

Slick with blood, trembling from shock and adrenaline, Sookie rolled her head to the side and stared at him.

A wide, lewd grin shaped her mouth, flashing her teeth shamelessly. "If you wanted me to scream, Eric, you're gonna have to stab more than one vampire."

There was a flash across Eric's face, and he returned her grin darkly, a sliver of approval in the gesture.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>Sookie stripped her jacket off, peeling the damp material slowly away from her skin, and laying it tentatively on the side of the sink. Blood dripped down her skin, sliding almost ticklishly across her nerves. The blood was cooling, drying in thick clumps all over her skin. Her face and long blonde hair was splattered with red, but her left side was soaked with it from the strange angle Bill had gripped Longshadow before staking him.<p>

The memory churned her stomach.

Blood whirled down the drain as Sookie reached out to feel the cold liquid and watched, almost stricken, as the red was diluted by water and soon swallowed it whole, the colour stark against the white sink. . .

Sookie thought of Gran - not of her death, but simply of her eyes, her kind hands as she tended to Sookie after a fight. It had often been this way: light steps around Sookie, a sting of pain as cloth touched wounds, a faint wisp of perfume in the Louisiana heat, a splash of blood on the white basin, a gray curl of hair winding together with blonde as Sookie's head lowered, and Gran lingered as she shook through it, through the remembered terror of an aggressive hand and what it always, always provoked.

Fear. Revulsion. Vulnerability.

It was a cycle, fighting made her a challenge - made her a problem to be put down - but Sookie couldn't stop.

Couldn't even try.

Sookie met her brown eyes in the mirror, a pang of disgust in the pit of her stomach as she looked closely at the spalshes and splatters of blood on her skin. Her hair was dripping with it. Longshadow was dead, blood caked thickly over her skin, and she was thinking of circles.

Someone had tried to kill her, and it made no impact around the dense shell she'd built up around herself.

Sookie felt tired and weary, but not afraid. She wasn't capable of such a strong emotion right now.

The realization made her feel like glass, brittle and fragile and empty. She called upon the memory of the delighted glee that bubbled up from the pit of her stomach whenever she bantered with Eric or laughed with Tara or flirted with Lafayette or when Jason did something unexpectedly sweet.

Random moments of simple uncomplicated amusement - almost happiness.

Rather than brooding, Sookie focused on the problem. She washed her hands first, rubbing soap and water in circular motions up and down her arms until they were clean. Next, she rubbed the blood from her face with her wet hands before ducking down over the sink, and briskly rinsing her hair before straightening up again.

Her hair dripped water onto the sink tiles until she aimed over the actual sink then squeezed and twisted. Iron-stained water trickled from her hands. The sink was tainted by the iron-colored water, so she automatically cleaned that and the side up. Damn manners.

A drop of water slipped down her forehead but she slicked her hair back before it could hit her in the eye.

For her legs, Sookie perched on the edge of the sink and scrubbed the blood off. She had left it long enough to dry, so flakes of blood caught viciously under her nails, but she didn't let that trouble her. She wasn't a faint-hearted woman.

Sookie didn't stop until the water ran clear again. She climbed off the sink and dried the water off her legs with her blood-stained jacket. As she was patting her left leg down, she was surprised to see clear skin.

Sookie remembered the dim sting of pain in her leg from the shattered slivers of glass - and the blood hungry look on Bill's face - yet there was no mark. She remembered how Sam had healed from Bill's blood, but she'd assumed the blood had to be ingested rather than sprayed everywhere.

"Gross yet informative," Sookie murmured into the silence. "I'm startin' to notice a pattern here."

"Do you talk to yourself often?" a dry voice questioned.

Sookie's spine snapped straight before recognizing the voice, she turned to face Pam and looked at her directly. "I live in a podunk town. Sometimes talkin' to myself is the only way to have an intelligent conversation."

One of Pam's finely plucked eyebrows rose, a smirk sliced across her mouth. There was a large black shirt folded in her grasp. "I'm beginning to understand the fuss Eric and your . . . stalker are making over you. That punch you pack," Pam drawled out. "Longshadow was a pathetic waste of space, but even he wasn't pathetic enough to be beaten by any human. At least, Eric doesn't think so."

"I'm a telepath," said Sookie with a shrug. Look unconcerned, be unconcerned. "It's hardly a stunning indication of humanity."

Pam allowed a faintly intrigued shift in her expression, as much as Eric allowed his own micro expressions. "I've never heard of a telepath before."

"Has Eric?" Sookie asked, arching an eyebrow smartly. "I'm pretty sure any interest Eric has in me personally is good business sense and maybe a mid-millenium crisis."

Despite the unflinching look on her face, she wasn't sure about the tail she was spinning. It felt awkward and wrong, like she was bullshitting herself, but Eric was a thousand years old. By default, she had to assume he was a good liar. Her telepathy was zero help in this case. She had to trust her instincts like a normal person. Being normal _blew_.

She hadn't realised how much she used her telepathy as a crutch when it came to people until it was rendered useless.

It was plain unnerving to look at somebody and not know if a certain comment about their Maker had pissed them off.

Pam didn't keep her in suspense. Her head tilted, the movement wooden and unnatural, as though in allowance. "After the first thousand years, male vampires start picking up eccentric...quirks."

"Well, I suppose it always _is_ the men first."

"You won't be having that problem with Eric," Pam purred, innuendo thick in her droll voice. "Though men get so tedious after the first century or so." Pam advanced three steps forward, looking salaciously at the curved areas of Sookie's body that her blood-stained dress highlighed. Sookie's skin prickled uncomfortably at the blatant stare, like tiny spiders were crawling all over her. It was too close. There was a shift in her eyes, even as her smirk held.

"Women, however..." Before Pam could finish or Sookie could interject, a strange feeling vibrated through the air. Pam jolted as though she had been electrocuted, sucking in an unneeded gasp of air.

Sookie blinked at the reaction. Since Pam didn't seem harmed so much as startled, she went with her go-to reaction: "Somebody just walk over your grave?"

Pam rolled her neck and looked at Sookie. "You've got a smart mouth, Xena." The older woman thrust the black shirt at her, and Sookie took it automatically. The instant the soft cloth touched her skin, Pam zipped out of the bathroom.

The tension in her spine released when Pam was gone, slumping back into her usual casual pose. A little puzzled, Sookie tried to form some coherent thoughts on what had happened.

Eric thought she was awesome. Pam thought her cleavage was awesome. Longshadow was at one with her dress. And Bill had killed someone because of her.

Her brain splintered a little at the last one.

Sookie didn't know what to think. Longshadow had been down, less than an inch from being back in Eric's grasp if he made another move for her, and Bill had staked him for her. The memory was vague and blurred from adrenaline but she knew the staking hadn't been necessary.

But he had done it anyway. Bill had killed someone for her. She didn't know what to think.

No, Sookie knew exactly what to think. It was her emotions that confused her. Bill hadn't needed to kill Longshadow but he had gotten himself involved. Why? The same reason she suspected the disco triplets had been at his house that night.

Bill wanted to save her. Why? Because he wanted her trust for some reason.

It should have been a clear cut case of things. But there was no hard proof, just an instinctive dislike and a bad personality. And it meant _something_ that Bill had killed someone for her. Not enough for her to like him, but she was human. It left a mark.

Sookie grabbed her jacket from beside the sink, snagged her heels from the floor, and went into a bathroom stall. She locked the door behind her. The heels went to the floor, the big t-shirt hit her lap with her jacket, and she dug her cell from the pocket. She hurriedly scrolled through her list of contacts until she reached Dawson.

_What happens if one vampire kills another_?

And send.

Dawson was attached to his phone, so it usually wouldn't take him long to reply. However, after their last conversation, it would take a few moments for his affection for her to win over his irritation.

She slipped out of her dress, taking great pains to keep her dress from touching the floor and avoiding the bathroom stall walls. As a telepath and a waitress, Sookie was highly aware of how many people ended up decorating the floor with vomit or worse bodily fluids while drunk. In Fangtasia, sex and blood seemed the most likely threat.

Her dress had enough stains already.

Sookie pulled the dark shirt over her head, and it fell an inch below her knees. She lifted her hair automatically out of the shirt. The sleeves were intended to be short but they reached her elbows. As she breathed in, a pleasant scent reached her nose. It was cool and masculine, like the ocean in winter.

_Eric_.

This was Eric's shirt.

The material was thick, obviously expensive, and made for a man bigger than most. It was soft against her skin, but her realization made it feel heavier than a full suit of armour. Maybe Eric hadn't intended it that way but his shirt felt like a brand. She bristled, her very being viciously rejecting the notion that she could be owned - like a whipped pet.

When wasn't a shirt just a shirt?

Eric wasn't senselessly cruel but he wasn't kind for the sake of it either.

Sookie touched the shirt lightly, tempted to pull her dress back on. But if he was doing it out of that strange almost-respect that laid between them, she didn't want to spit in his face.

Her cell phone buzzed with a text message, a reply from Dawson - _A party._ And then an instant later, when the werewolf seemed to realize who he was talking to - _What did you do_? Another second later - _Where are you? _Before she could reply, her cell buzzed again - _Stupid question. On my way_.

Alarmed, Sookie's fingers darted across the number pad, typing as quickly as she could - _Down boy. No danger unless you come here. Fetch answer for me._

_Brought to trial. Ask Northman more._

Sookie hesitated, struck by how Dawson was encouraging her to trust Eric, and the thought of Bill brought to trial for killing someone over her. _Trustworthy?_

Dawson sent back one word in response - _Vampire_.

Before Sookie could reply, she heard a pair of slow, steady footsteps. The bathroom door was closed with a slight creak. Creepy. Sensing the blank void near the sink, she stuffed her cell into her jacket pocket, folded her dress over her arm before she unlocked the bathroom stall and walked out.

Eric was waiting for her. He was slouching magnificently against the sink, his ice-blue eyes shifted and locked on her, flaring hotly with intensity, like adding gasoline to a fire. He straightened up slightly and looked her over with a smirk.

"This is a very good look for you," Eric informed her. His voice was droll in contrast to the heat simmering in his gaze.

"Mauled?" asked Sookie. She put her things on the counter and peered at her reflection, searching for stray flecks of blood on her tanned skin; avoiding his eyes.

"I had an interesting conversation with the Weres hired to guard you." There was a subtle note of distaste in Eric's rough voice as he mentioned the werewolves. It was a note Sookie almost missed in her surprise.

Until now, she hadn't remembered Eric's intent to hire werewolves. Understandably, everything from that night had been overshadowed by Gran. A hot knife plunged into her chest even at the vague memory, but she fought against it. Eric had hired werewolves to guard her - to watch her - and he was bringing it up. Something had happened.

"Color me surprised," Sookie remarked with a skilful calm in her voice. "Willingly talking to werewolves?"

Inwardly, she was reeling through the last few days, trying to think of anything telling she had said. Her conversation with Jason after she found him trying to steal Gran's things was brought to mind. Unlike Jason, Eric would put that together less than a second after hearing it. A sickly feeling of dread slivered through her gut. Her legs weakened slightly under her, so she casually pulled herself up to sit on the counter, legs dangling in the air.

Eric turned his head slowly, eyes drilling into her. "I found it suspect neither of them thought to inform me of the shovel incident."

Sookie stilled, mind catching on his meaning. "Bill glamoured them?"

"When I questioned them, they claimed no memory of seeing Bill tonight," Eric said, the grit in his voice deepening with displeasure.

She assumed the werewolves were too afraid of Eric to lie, and he knew that. It was the only reason someone as sharp as him wouldn't suspect them of lying. Still, the whole thing felt rather contrived somehow. Sloppy.

"I'm guessing you want me to get a read on them," Sookie stated. Even if he refused, she fully intended to check her guards out. It was unnerving to think she had overlooked them somehow, especially since she had been searching for minds last night. Werewolves were tricky for her to read, but she could usually sense them well enough.

"I want you to tell me how you went from striking Compton with a shovel," a smirk flickered at the corners of his mouth, darkly, spitefully amused, "And asking for information on his doings over the past century to allowing him to accompany you."

"I hit my head a few times," Sookie shot back nonchalantly. Eric's eyelids lowered, and she decided to veer towards honestly. "Well, I _had_ to get the memory of Bill's naked body out of my head somehow, didn't I?"

Eric looked at her sharply, slightly repulsed. "Compton was naked?"

"Says he took a nap in the graveyard even though he lives roughly, mm, thirty feet away," she explained more coherently. "When he woke up, he decided that running towards me would be a good idea, and - you can guess how that one worked out for him."

Eric seemed less amused by her story than he had been before. "What else?"

"No," Sookie denied plainly. She swung her legs like a little girl, bare thigh brushing against his jeans.

"No?" Eric echoed, almost dangerously. He was clearly unused to not getting his own way, whether through stone-eyed intimidation or his incredibly handsome face.

"I don't know if it matters yet," Sookie told him. When her legs continued to swing, Eric laid a hand on the bare skin of her knee. His skin was refreshingly cool and rough from a human life filled with actions. Her nerves buzzed viciously at the small touch, glowing fire-hot under her skin.

"You have no contacts in the vampire world," Eric said, rough-soft voice stroking persuasively over her skin. His thumb rubbed forcefully into her skin, edging slowly up her leg, under his large shirt. Every small touch was another golden thread, weaving a white-hot line straight between her legs. His eyes drilled into hers, ice-blue and dagger sharp, raw intelligence gleaming. "Let me help you."

Her breath hitched in her throat, heart racing in her chest. She felt her thighs slackening, parting fractionally, and Eric's eyes dilated, almost violently.

"Sookie," he said, a hungry rumble in his voice, hand ghosting up her thigh until the rough pad of his finger touched the lace of her white panties.

Her heart jolted unexpectedly in her chest, and she automatically inhaled - as Eric moved, inserting himself between her thighs, mouth crashing down onto hers. Sookie arched up into him, grasping his shoulders to ground her. His skin was flawlessly smooth under her touch, muscles flexing as he grasped the back of her head with one hand, deepening.

Sookie flicked at the tip of his tongue with her own, and his hand shifted between her thighs, thumb pressing against her and _rubbing_ a circle there. She flinched from the intensity of it, an indescribable choked noise flying from her mouth. Eric snarled, hand fisting possessively in her hands, leaning her forward, over the sink.

Sookie's nails scrapped against his skin, provoking another low growl from him. She stroked up his neck, hand twisting in his blonde hair, pulling him in closer - and Eric's fangs snapped down, almost slicing her lip.

Sookie met his kiss eagerly, allowing him to explore her mouth. She tightened her grip in his hair, and licked the back of his fang fleetingly with her tongue. Eric hadn't expected that: a hoarse growl vibrated through him, and his thumb flinched against her before he came back to life against her.

His mouth resealed over hers with renewed force, hand slipping from her damp hair to grasp her neck, dragging a small noise from the back of her throat. Eric's thumb skated over her panties until his cool skin was touching hers, and then his thumb pushed under the edge of lace, burning into her skin.

Sookie's blood pumped around her body so fast that she felt light-hearted, breathing whenever she could under the furious onslaught of Eric's very, very talented mouth, but the feel of his skin so close to her sex sent a shock of breathlessly, stomach churning panic through her.

"Stop, stop - Eric, stop -" she gasped breathlessly, hands moving to his shoulders, pushing uselessly as she leaned back against the cool mirror.

Eric stilled with a great amount of effort, muscles stiff and coiled against her body. Slowly, his mouth pulled back from hers, thumb dragging over her skin in a very reluctant retreat. His fangs stayed down. Eric . . .

Eric - lingered against her, eyes closed, hiding his reaction. His mouth was parted, slack, damp and so very red against his smooth skin.

"Are you wearing white panties?" Eric asked, his voice lilting upwards smoothly. His words brushed over her face, cooling her flushed cheeks.

Sookie slowly moved her hands from his shoulder to push the shirt back down her thighs. There was a steep throb between her legs, more demanding than her heartbeat, and she felt jittery, unsettled, uncertain. Her lips felt sore and bruised, and her scalp ached faintly from his rough hands, but . . . but she was okay. Physically and emotionally. Just shaken and shocked and turned on and grateful to herself for snapping back to reality, to him for not . . .

For _stopping_.

"Well," she said, dragging the word out sarcastically, still slightly breathless. "It looks that way doesn't it?"

"Did you intend to tell me?" he asked, amused.

"What's the point in teasing if no one _knows_ about it?"

Finally, Eric's eyes flickered open, almost blackened with lust and a dangerously thin film of control. His voice crooned: "Was this a tease?"

She said nothing.

Sookie shrugged her shoulders back, shifting forward on the counter. Eyes riveted to her, Eric took a single step back. It was a large step compared to hers, but he was still deep in her personal space when she slipped back to her feet. Her legs trembled slightly as she moved away, casually putting space between them. . .

She could feel the imprint of his skin against hers, touch crackling across her nerves like a shockwave. It itched at her, the wrongness of it crawling over her skin, the unfamiliarity.

"Since Compton is . . . indisposed," Eric said, clearing his throat to bring his voice out of the lust-rough growl. "I will be taking you home."

Sookie arched her eyebrows, torn between confusion and relief at the distraction. "Indisposed?" she softened her own voice, trying to shake the husky tone.

Eric moved closer to her, strides long and predatory with the arrogant edge of a swagger. The man had a distracting walk. "Why would I allow a murderer to walk free?"

Sookie felt a tart niggling at her conscience but she tried to ignore it. Which proved easier in theory than in practice. She wouldn't be able to silence the guilty worry that she was being a complete monster unless she _knew_ Bill was a danger to her.

Dark brown eyes studied Eric's towering form, a wry note singing through her voice as she asked; "When you say indisposed, what exactly do you mean?"

"Whether or not, Bill Compton meets the true death will be out of my hands," Eric stated uncaringly. A slight note of mocking crept into his voice. "He is currently under silver, tucked safely away with the nesting vampires you encountered."

Instinctively, her mind flared with sickening memories of the smoke rising off Bill's skin, the shrill of Diane's voice, and the harsh start of fear as Bill raced towards her in the graveyard . . .

Eric drove her home in his flashing red car. On the way home, Sookie recollected her thoughts into a vaguely organised fashion. She put the Bill problem on hold, and concentrated on Eric. She stashed the memory of his touch, the brutal force of his kiss, away in some corner of her mind to deal with later. No one knew mental organisation quite like a telepath. Sookie cheerfully predicted it would be a couple of hours before she knotted her head up again.

"Wanna fly the rest of the way?" Sookie asked when he turned into her driveway, recalling his irritation at the potholes.

Eric glanced at her, more amused than irritated. "It isn't wise to taunt me."

Sookie grinned at him broadly. "Sanity is _so _last year."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Eric remarked, a twitch in his jaw as he floored up her drive-way.

"To feel better implies I was feelin' bad in the first place," Sookie said, arching her golden hair had dried in clumsy, messy curls, falling erratically down her shoulders.

"And you were not." Eric looked at her again, a strange simmering emotion under his stony expression.

"Today isn't even the first time this week, I've been covered in blood," Sookie said, sticking to her light, dancing tone. "You should remember," she added, quirking her eyebrow again. "You _were_ there."

She was grateful for that. If Eric hadn't been there, she wouldn't have been able to stop herself from breaking. Caution had kept her together that night, and determination kept her together now. How precious.

"I wouldn't grow too . . . comfortable with the carnage if I were you."

"I'm pretty sure it is physically _impossible _to grow comfortable with any kind of carnage," Sookie stated, looking over at Eric. "But you would know better than me."

Eric turned his head to look back at her. "If only you would accept that as fact in all areas of your life."

Another laugh bubbled out of Sookie's chest, bright and amused, reaching her sparkling eyes. "You should try out some rabbit holes, Eric. Alice in Wonderland seems more likely than obedience from me."

Eric met her eyes, an unexpected intent simmering in the ice-blue color, and arched a single pale eyebrow. "Know this, Sookie Stackhouse, unlike everyone who _claims_ to want what is best for you, I have no desire for your obedience."

"But you did," Sookie stated, a tricky playful tone in her voice as she vividly recalled their first meeting.

"Once," Eric acknowledged, turning his cold eyes back ahead.

"Not anymore," Sookie pressed, grinning at the side of his face. "You like my jokes, don't you?"

"I take back my assessment," Eric said starkly as he pulled up outside of her house. "Clearly, you are unwell."

"Blame Longshadow," Sookie retorted, shifting the bag with her bloodstained clothes in her lap. She reached for the door handle. From the corner of her eye, she was Eric stiffen.

"Wait," he said sharply, inhaling slowly.

Sookie froze, heart stopping in her chest. A slow, nauseating horror crept up on her. She knew this moment.

"Animal blood," said Eric, eyes flickering to her. It wasn't compassion. It wasn't cruelty. "Not your creature." Tina was with Jason. The blond vampire turned his head. "Brace yourself."

Without hesitation, Sookie stiffened, and then she was flying in the air, golden hair tossed wildly around from the wind. Eric's strong arms crushed her to his chest, one under her knees, unintentionally keeping his shirt covering her modestly, and the other around her back. Sookie gasped a curse into his chest, clutching the bag and Eric's shoulder, panic buzzing wildly around her body.

There was the sound of a door bursting open, and then Eric shot upwards before flying ahead. Within seconds, his feet hit the floor, knees bumping into her upper thighs from the landing. Sookie flung herself away from him, dropping the bag, and staggering backward.

"Okay, okay," she said breathlessly, vaguely recognizing her bedroom and dropping down on her bed. Eric watched her intently, like he wished to be that creepier with a microscope. "Can we _never ever _do that again?"

"Would you have preferred to be splattered with more blood?" Eric asked dryly.

"Yes."

She hated being snatched like that, and though she understood why he had done it, her instincts were rattled by the suddenness of it. She liked how Eric didn't make exceptions for her because she was a woman, unlike Bill and his ass-pulled 'chivalry', but damn if it wasn't startling sometimes.

"What was it?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him. Once again, there was blood in her home. Another dead body. Her skin crawled across her bones, shivering in horrified disgust, but she tried for a grimly playful tone. "Puppy blood? Horse's head?"

"The animal is irrelevant," he said, slightly curtly. "It has become clear you are in danger here." There was a coiled up sense of aggravation to Eric's stance, increasing as his eyes flickered to the window, a seething glare hardening his face. He was clearly thinking about the werewolves.

"They do suck at this whole guarding thing, don't they?" Sookie said, a wry amusement in her voice. "But what are you gonna do? Hit them with a rolled up newspaper, take away their chew-toy, _spray_ bottle?"

"I already have a suitable punishment in mind," Eric said, a dark tone in his crisp voice.

Sookie was instantly clued in on the dog-related punishment he was alluding too, and felt a thrill of alarm. "I'm pretty sure neturing would piss off their packmaster. Besides, why don't I check their brains out and see how scrambled they are before you do something a better person would regret?"

"Indeed," said Eric, seeming coldly calm. "Remain here. I will bring the werewolves to you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

* * *

><p>After Eric left, Sookie changed into her own clothes. She didn't wear jeans very often, not in the Southern heat, but sometimes an extra layer was needed. She could still feel Eric's hands all over her skin, the rough rasp of his callus' on the inside of her thigh, rubbing into her panties. Her blood broiled in her veins at the memory, and her stomach clenched, arousal simmering. Her heart stuttered out of time, forgetting the proper pace.<p>

Pushing the memory away, Sookie wiggled into her favourite pair of jeans and then tugged on a dark tank top with a sweetheart bust. The jeans fit her snugly, clinging lightly to her curves, and the purple bra she wore under her top shaped her breasts wonderfully. She sprayed on her lily-scent perfume and rolled on deodorant. Then she pulled her hair up into a pony tail. After being covered in blood, Sookie needed to feel sexy and _different_ from how she had in that moment.

Besides if she showed up in comfort clothes, Lafayette might just pass out and hit his head from shock, and_ how_ could she knowingly rid the world of his presence?

She was a smart enough to realise that staying in the place where a killer had broke in _twice_? Bad idea. She should have relocated after Gran, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to leave so many memories in the dust. It was dumb and sentimental, and far too late to change anything. Time travel wasn't in her gift bag of tricks.

It wouldn't take long for somebody to realise who she would run to. Tara lived with her mama, Sam was chilling with the Sandman, Jason was _too_ obvious, but Lafayette would be able to keep it under wraps, and she needed his brand of flippancy right now.

Who else would chill out with her about the shit submerging the fan right now?

Dawson would be the smartest choice. He was a werewolf. Considering Eric's reaction, most humans (or near enough) couldn't come up against a werewolf and walk away in one piece. There were only three people who even knew Dawson's name - JB, Lafayette, and Tara. But he was in Monroe, and she needed to keep the bar running for Sam when he woke up.

At this point, Lala was already expecting her 'tanned ass'.

Sookie dug up an old sports bag of hers from when she used to play softball and packed several things briskly, including her Merlotte's uniform. As she was zipping up the bag, her telepathy twinged, and she paused.

And smiled at what she found. "Well, hello there."

Two werewolves and a blank void were approaching the house. She knew those angry tangles of fuckery from Dawson's - well, Anna's pack. Layla Seers, who threw an epic hissy fit the first time they met about a teenaged girl knowing about werewolves, and Andrew Marks, who liked her sarcasm as much as her cleavage.

As most people tended to be, they were older than Sookie, _and_ terrified of Eric the Northman.

The vampire left one hell of an impression. She couldn't hear much information but she could feel their emotions, and a few snatches of images. Eric was snarling at them, his face like a volcano - hard as stone with lava boiling under the surface, ready to boil over and burn the werewolves to ashes.

There was something about Eric's anger that snagged her attention. She was hesitant to think about why he was so angry, and why it felt like more than rage at a failure. She had terrible instincts when it came to men, but she knew he liked her. However, she wasn't willing to bet on how much.

She would leave that guessing game to the moon-eyed teenagers.

Nothing could come of their little thing anyway. For her, there had only really been JB, but she was the greedy type. Not willing to share with every beautiful thing that catches his eyes. And she couldn't give him what he wanted from her.

A few moments later, her bedroom door opened to admit Andrew and Layla. Eric entered behind them, cool blue eyes observing the two werewolves disdainfully. Sookie was sitting at the end of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, elbows on her knees. She smiled with sarcastic mirth at them. "Howdy."

"Stackhouse," Layla said tersely. The woman was in her mid forties, brown hair greying in places, a scar running from jaw to cheekbone. It was such a little nick compared to decades of fighting. Some of those years had been spent in the Las Vegas pits.

Eric had chosen an excellent guard in her, so what had gone wrong?

Andrew, as different from Layla in personality as looks, smiled at her. There was an odd edge to the gesture, a guilt. "Hey Sookie."

There was no obvious sign of interest from Eric but Sookie could feel his attention, and it was plastered firmly on the small interaction. He must be curious about her ties to the werewolves. He knew about Dawson, but the werewolves were infamously close-lipped about personal matters, and Eric was hardly going to lower himself by actually asking something of a were.

The Nordic vampire made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved around the two werewolves. His air of a displeasure made Andrew stiffen but Layla made no sign of discomfort or further anger. She was a demon at poker.

"I expected you to have more competent friends," Eric remarked disdainfully, coming to stand beside her.

Thinking of Lafayette and Tara, Sookie laughed. "I coulda cured you of _that _misconception a while ago if _only_ you'd asked after more than my cup size."

Eric looked faintly amused. It was an entirely arrogant (controlled) expression, exactly like the one he had given her in Fangtasia when they had first met. This was the sheriff of Area Five. There was a very, very subtle difference, one that even he may not have realised quite yet.

_What? _Andrew thought, astonished. _She wouldn't . . . not with a fanger . . . bet she's a C, maybe a D . . . shit, Sookie?_

_Knew we shouldn't have let Dawson bring her before the pack_, Layla thought in a more netural and coherent manner.

She spared a sarcastic smile for Andrew - of course, Eric would hire werewolf guards for the girl he was having sex with since he was such a nice guy - but gave Layla no indication of hearing her thoughts. Layla was smart enough to put the pieces together. She was working for Eric, a vampire, and she had never expected the werewolves to throw a party about it. They had the whole natural enemy thing going on, after all.

If shit came down on Dawson, she would have to deal with Anna for his sake.

Which would be fun, a tempermental werewolf in a fanatical hissy fit about vampires and a perpetually sarcastic telepath. A sitcom could only dream of that drama. She felt certain Eric would be amused by the idea. Maybe she could convince him to come with her, if only so he (they) could watch the werewolves get worked up.

Before she could ponder that further, Eric's voice - tense with barely stiffled anger - cut through the air.

"Earlier tonight, Miss Stackhouse was attacked by a vampire for the second time since you were hired to protect her, and yet you both claim to have no memory of this incident."

The second time? Sookie figured he meant Malcolm and his squicky sex slaves, but she certainly would have noticed Layla and Andrew without the cover of trees. No matter what experience they had, she hated the thought of them slipping past her notice. She had gone to great pains to be capable of defending herself, and the implications of missing two minds were chilling.

Andrew seemed to think somewhat similar because he swallowed nervously, _guilt/fear/anger_ in his head. Layla was cool as ever, watching Eric with the eyes of a predator outmatched. It wasn't an undeserved expression. There was a stillness in Eric's posture, like an animal ready to pounce - and then he delivered a shock to the two werewolves.

"I assume you are both aware of Sookie's talent," he finished, contempt in his voice.

Andrew jolted, and Layla coiled up with tension, eyes darting to Sookie warily. She lifted a hand and waved, making the gesture perky.

"You're not serious," Andrew said, startled.

Eric's stony expression burned up, turning to a seething fury. His fangs snapped down with a sound like breaking bone, and he bared them threateningly. Andrew and Layla stiffened, just shy of flinching. "Because of your overwhelming _idiocy_, one of my most valuable assets was endangered. Before you are both dismissed from your duties, I am giving you one last order. Others who fail me are far less fortunate. Unless you would like to share their fate, it would be wise to obey."

A silence fell. Andrew's expression was tight, like he was struggling to hold something back, and Layla was unreadable. Unoffended by being referred to as an asset, Sookie flashed them a bright grin, and offered them her hands.

"Come on, guys. All you've gotta do is hold a pretty girl's hand, and think about your day," she said, drawling the words out with charm. Her accent thickened. "It won't hurt none. Worse case, you get a reason for all your paranoia." Sensing their continued hesitation, she tossed out another jab, "You ain't afraid of little Red Riding Hood, are you?"

Andrew shot her an irate look, but Layla was more focused on other things. "Both of us?"

"I want you to replay what you _can _remember from tonight - " As soon as the words left her mouth, their memories kicked in. She put her hands to her curving hips. "Wait, wait. Reel it back. Take my hand, and _then_ start."

Sookie could feel Eric's gaze on her, drilling forcefully under her skin and into her nerves, tweaking her subtly into spilling everything he wanted from her. Not about to admit a lacking of knowledge in front of the werewolves. She wasn't sure if that was brains or balls talking.

"If I run through them at the same time, I should be able to pick up on any inconsistencies," Sookie explained in a bored tone, directing it to the werewolves but doing it for Eric. "Since vampires _can't_ glamour two people at the same time, there should be some in any fake memory."

Memory was a tricky thing. Though she hadn't met a vampire since Bill, Sookie knew quite a bit about the effect of outside sources on the human memory. For starters, being glamoured had been one of her biggest fears when it came to vampires, so she'd bugged Dawson to tell her everything. Secondly, Tara's mom and her own mother were prime examples of how alcohol and drugs messed with memory.

"Our memory ain't been messed around with," Layla said sharply. "It's just gone."

"And how, exactly, would you know that your memory _hasn't_ been tampered with?" Sookie said archly. Layla clenched her jaw, thinking _fucking Stackhouse_. "For all you know about today, I spent it sunbathing naked in my backyard, and smoking a bong."

Amusement broke through Andrew's fear, and he smiled at her, almost lewdly. "Did you?"

Sookie smiled back at him, sultry and sarcastic, but Eric's impatient voice snapped, "Enough."

Her dark eyes flitted to his briefly, and found a coldly impatient expression directed at the werewolves. She didn't buy it. The threat was real, but the reason wasn't. Between his interactions with her and basic common sense, she knew he had patience to outwait a damn komodo dragon for the kill. However, she didn't, so she let the train of thought drop for now.

Sookie turned her eyes back to the werewolves, offering them her hands, and shooting them a playfully challenging look under her hair. Andrew glanced at Eric and then swallowed before gingerly taking her hand. His skin was rough and dry, and his thoughts flooded through her mind. Like most people did when they learned about her telepathy, Andrew was thinking of what he didn't want to know, frantically trying to shove his secret to the back of his head.

He could smell another man all over his wife but he was afraid to confront her and risk losing his infant daughter in the messy divorce. So he got back at her by sleeping with her sister, who he had been with before meeting his wife. He was terrified of Eric killing him, of the things she knew now - and he had once looked at her when she was a teenager, all long blonde hair and curves and sassy charm - but he would_ never _- if the damn fanger knew -

And then Andrew shoved an image at her, trying desperately to keep his thoughts from those secrets. She and Eric were in her bedroom. Her mirror image was smilling all the way up at him, dark eyes warmed, (_his scent all over her skin, what the fuck?) _and Eric was looking at her, like there was something - something _relevant _in her.

_Oh, _Sookie thought, feeling something small and warm moving under the protective curve of her ribcage. It wasn't love or anything ridiculous like that, but it fit their relationship perfectly. Value and respect and possessiveness and something not unlike friendship, not unlike trust.

And then she subdued Andrew's memories, dipping into Layla's head.

Layla's mind wasn't a nice place. If it was made of actual material, it would've been harsh steel and bloodstained concrete. She used horrific memories of that fighting ring like barbed wire whenever the older woman came into contact with Sookie. Today, Layla smashed an old memory into her head like a spear to the eye -

It was an office. A dark-haired man - vampire - was sitting behind a desk. Layla was standing behind him, a single evening of respite before she was forced back into the fighting pits, and set against a were-tiger, Quinn. On the other side of the desk, Eric was smiling, charming and very, very handsome in a white suit - and then - werewolves were bursting in - animalistic roars of fury, sharp white fangs, and blood - so much blood - werewolves losing control of their forms, sliding back into humans to die - and in the middle of the disjointed images was Eric, suit stained red, mouth hopelessly bloody -

_Do you see_? Layla thought fiercely at her. She hadn't been much older than Sookie at the time; an awful thing to witness for one so young. _All dead but me - when you were no more than an infant - _

"Nothing to see here," Sookie remarked aloud, trying to ignore the sickening swirl of her stomach - compassion. "How many of those werewolves were there willingly? For fun? All except for you and the others from what I've heard." From the corner of her eye, Eric shifted, the weight of his stare clinging to her persistantly.

"That changes nothing," Layla said firmly.

Unwilling to respond to that, Sookie simply arched an eyebrow, and said, "Annnd _go_."

It took a moment for them to realise what she was referring to, and then their minds responded automatically to the question, quick flashes of images reeling from their minds into hers. The two sets of memories matched up, from arriving at Merlotte's to take the night watch over her to following her home. The two had watched her walking up the steps to her house from the woods - Layla had been indifferent, but Andrew had admired faintly, and then there had been a scent.

Old and earthy, power coiling like an electric shock on their tongues. In union, the werewolves had risen, and -

Her telepathy hit something hard, bouncing off into a yawning darkness that yanked her violently down into the black. It forced itself down her throat, pouring down into her, like drowning in ink, only it was as thick, as dark, as motor oil. Thick and greasy and so deep, like falling and drowning and losing her mind all in one breath.

With a startled gasp, Sookie wrenched herself back into her own body with enough force that she stumbled backwards, and into Eric's hand. Her head snapped around, staring up at Eric, dimly aware of the strange slackness in her expression. The touch had startled her faintly, a brief prick of discomfort in the ocean of sharp disbelief and cracklingly cold alarm, verging on horror, that her glimpse had caused.

His strength pressed into the small of her back, steadying her and curling into the back of her shirt in an odd little hold. It felt like a rock, a lifeline, and she resisted the urge to turn into his body. He was close, suggestively so, but there was nothing like that in his serious face.

"What did you see?" Eric asked lowly, his blue eyes drilled into hers, driving the image - the _feel_ - of all that _endless _darkness away.

"Honesty?" she heard herself reply, awareness returning slowly to her. Her big dark eyes blinked up at him. "I have _no_ fuckin' idea."

A frown touched Eric's handsome face briefly, his grip shifting from the small of her back to her hipbone. He looked sharply aside, at the werewolves, while she dizzily studied his face. Such a hard, angry expression - always, except little flashes of more than amusement and arrogance and anger and lust. Tiny instants where it wasn't so hard to believe he had been human once.

Dimly, Sookie heard Eric's voice snapping at the werewolves like the crack of a whip - something about cleaning up their mess - and then they were alone. Her bedroom door was closed, and Eric was lukewarm against her side, hand forceful on her hip. He looked down at her, mouth parted ever so slightly.

He was such a pale man, golden-haired and blue-eyed and pale-skinned. His eyebrows furrowed faintly as he looked down at her - _concern/amusement/ **want** - _and she abruptly realised she had been silently staring at him for a few moments.

"Uh," Sookie blinked herself back, and groaned, detacting from him, rubbing the back of her neck forcefully. "I think I have the telepathic version of whiplash. Is my brain melting out of my ears?"

"No more than usual," Eric stated, and she grinned at him for that little jab. He stepped closer to her, easily breaching the distance she had put between them. He lowered for her, and stared into her eyes intently. Strangely, Sookie thought about the freckles she'd seen when he'd climbed out of her tub, and something warm swelled low in her stomach. "What was it?"

"_Not_ a glamour," Sookie answered certainly. "And that is about all I can tell you. Whatever that was I'm simply _delighted_ to say I've never come across it before." A shiver forced its way up her spine as she recalled the inky black abyss, and she let up the pressure on her neck. "They weren't lying, though. Their memory has been erased."

Eric studied her intently. "I've never heard of another supernatural being capable of altering human perceptions." There was no disbelief in his voice, however. He believed her. Relief weaved through her blood, deep and warming. "The creature, the woman, you mentioned some time ago?"

Confusion touched Sookie's face briefly before her dark eyes widened a fraction in realisation - "Maryann? I haven't seen her around since, and I doubted I made that much of a first impression that she decided to stalk me, then try to whack me."

She hadn't been _that_ rude, had she? Sookie remembered being distracted while meeting the other woman. If anything, she had been less awful than usual, and well, it had been a while since someone had taken enough offense to her sense of humor to attempt murder.

Eric gazed at her, an odd occurrance in his blue eyes - emotion, something very nearly warm. "I did," he pointed out, an edge of sardonic humor in his voice.

Sookie felt a strange catch in her gut, a hitch of breath and a skip of her heart. "You knew about my telepathy," she said, trying to match his tone and managing it quite well. "Morticia Addams doesn't."

"You were able to sense her supernatural nature, perhaps she became aware of yours," Eric speculated. His eyes hardened, growing serious and forceful, locked unwaveringly on her. "You are no longer safe here, my tiny human. It would be best if you came with me."

There was no way he meant what she thought he meant. No way. "Where?" she asked carefully.

"I have no use for a telepath without a head," Eric said sharply. "The werewolves have proven themselves to be far more incompetent than I expected." There was the roughness of a growl in his voice, but it passed hurriedly, like a guilty secret. "I am offering you my protection."

_And your guest room_? she wanted to quip, but the words never left her mouth.

The intensity in his eyes was painful to look directly at, burning as bright and hot as the sun, but she couldn't advert her eyes from it. It was fascinating, and she felt echoes of his certainty rippling through her body. She liked Eric, cared about him, and it was a pretty damn sure way to keep her heart beating, which she was also rather fond of. It was such a huge gesture from him.

And Sookie opened her mouth, to say yes, only -

Only Sam. The bar. And Jason was messed up, and Lafayette was already expecting her, and Tara was being dragged down by her mama, and she didn't know Eric very well. The week felt more like a year, but she had never been trusting, so why break the best of her bad habits?

Her mind flashed back to the bathroom scene, the uncontrollable tornado of lust blasting through her, urging her to throw everything away and just let him have her, let herself have _him_. She had survived her teenage years with her knees mostly closed, but Eric just swept her away.

And that . . .

Good or bad, Sookie wasn't sure yet, but she had to keep an eye on the bar.

"I know I can't stay here. Hell - " she moved her leg back, under the bed, and hooked a strap of her bag around her ankle, drawing it out for him to see. "But I can't leave Bon Temps. Aside from Lafayette, I'm the only one with enough free hands to run the bar."

Eric was very still, stiff posture impossible to read. But Sookie could sense the thick displeasure rolling off his form at her careful refusal, and his eyes, so intense, had turned to stone. Then something dangerous crackled in the air, a stormy cloud that could cast an entire city into a terrified darkness.

"Will you go to the wolf?" The rough-scratch of his voice was dark and stiff, not bothering to hide his taunting distaste. In fact, his voice dripped with it. "I doubt Tray Dawson will prove a superior failsafe to your . . . friends downstairs." His eyebrow arched when Sookie shook her head. "Am I to assume you have a better idea?"

"That depends how you feel about lyin' to yourself," Sookie replied. "But it'll work for now." Eric's look deepened, pressing at her with a simple movement of his eyes, and remarkably, she played along. "I'm skippin' out to Lafayette's."

As she twisted her hips, going to grab her bag, Eric moved his head slightly to the side. "Lafayette Reynolds?"

Sookie's stomach span rapidly towards the ground.

"Jason?" she said, questioning his source of knowledge.

"I have no tolerance for dealers of vampire blood in my area," Eric stated, a hard warning in his voice. "Due to several reports of his non-violent methods of aquiring vampire blood, I am inclined to be merciful. However, it would be best for your friend Lafayette if he went into an early retirement."

The blonde telepath stared up at him, dark eyes wide with shock, and then she blinked, shaking her head faintly in numb surprise.

She knew Lafayette dealt drugs and worked several crappy jobs to keep his mama in a fancy hospital, but - really, vampire blood? It wasn't a million miles from selling human organs on the black market. No matter what, she couldn't help but feel a deep pang of revulsion as her mind flashed back to what the Rattarys had done to Bill, pinned him to the floor with silver and planned to package him up in blood bags.

And the smell . . . charred and burning flesh, fizzling like oil in a pan, smoke rising off his skin . . .

Lafayette could never do that, she knew. He was a good person, maybe not overly moral, but neither was she. Still . . . it settled wrongly with her, but she tried to push it aside. If Lafayette wasn't hurting anyone, she had no right to be judgemental along with every other person in Bon Temps.

Even if she thought he was being a goddamn _idiot_. There was no way selling vampire blood could've ended good for him. And he had sold it to _Jason_. It had been her dumbass brother's choice - and free will, choice, was a pretty big thing with her - but Lafayette knew better than letting a secret like that out to Jason. It was asking for trouble.

Her shock was numbed by a dizzy relief, one that twisted her stomach until she felt almost sick with it. She couldn't image the world without Lafayette and Jason. So many years of bantering with Lafayette, words bouncing off each other, and telling him things she wouldn't even consider confiding in Tara, and Jason, her big brother, who always had her back before anybody else's when it came down to things.

Those _idiots_. She should hate Eric for this, for not-quite-threatening two of the people she loved, but Sookie was too realistic to ignore the facts. If it had been any other vampire but Eric . . .

Her heart squeezed violently, terror and relief like a vice.

"I'll talk to him," Sookie promised, reaching up to release her hair from its pony tail. Messy blonde curls tumbled down her neck, stretching down past her shoulders, just brushing the small of her back. Her scalp ached faintly in relief, and she rubbed it anxiously. For the second time this week, she had to talk someone down before Eric had to get involved. "Jesus Christ."

Eric studied her, and then he shifted, hand curling around her elbow, pulling her hand gently from her hair. The contrast and the feel of his skin stole her attention away, locking it firmly on him. His hand tucked several messy, curling strands of golden hair behind her ear. Her skin prickled at is touch, somewhere between wariness and interest. Something tentative froze her to the spot, but she felt ready to recoil at a moment's notice.

There was something in the gesture - not tender, certainly not, but fascinated somehow. His thumb traced down from her ear, stroking the edge of her jaw, then coming down to linger lightly on her pulse. Her heartbeat was fast, like a humming bird, and Eric's eyes were on hers - not her throat, but her eyes.

Sookie thought that maybe he wanted to kiss her again.

Though her skin felt almost painfully sensitive, she didn't step away from his touch.

"Thank you for the flowers," Eric said, smirking humour weaving into his voice, not detracting from his burning eyes.

Sookie's mouth felt dry, but her voice sounded drier still as she quipped back: "Thank you for not killing my brother and my friend."

Instead of breaking the air between them, it deepened and continued to linger. His thumb rubbed a small circle on her pulse, like a promise of some kind, before retreating with reluctance. As Eric's hand returned to his side, Sookie caught it, and he went still. His eyes were powerful things, watching her with crackling intensity.

Sookie went to turn his wrist over, and Eric allowed her to. He was wearing a watch, a beautiful expensive thing. She ducked her head, blonde hair just brushing his arm, and read the time off it. It was only eleven at night, yet she already felt mostly dead with exhaustion.

What a damn day.

Releasing Eric's wrist with a faint squeeze, Sookie lifted her head. "I better hit the road," she said, grabbing her bag from the floor.

"I wouldn't recommend going downstairs," Eric cautioned, moving closer to her with that swaggering stride of his. His eyes flickered briefly to the window. She had opened it while he was collecting the werewolves.

Sookie abruptly remembered how they had gotten into the house. Her eyes widened a fraction. "Or I could do the sane thing and climb down the drain pipe like an incy wincy spider."

"That would be far more dangerous than allowing me to carry you," Eric stated, arching an eyebrow at her sing-song tone.

"I'm not dead yet, now am I?"

"To my growing surprise," Eric stated, continuing to eye her. Sookie laughed sarcastically at him, but when he ducked his head, she wrapped one arm around his neck, and let him lift her up, up, up into his arms.

She felt tiny and weightless pulled so closely to his chest, held so effortlessly in his arms, and she wasn't sure how to feel about the sensation. The bag settled in her lap, and his hair was as soft as she remembered against her arm. He The wind whipped briefly at her hair, stinging her skin lightly, and then she felt a jolt going through Eric as his feet hit the floor.

Eric bent his knees a little further, allowing her to recoil from his grip, as she always did, unease bolting instinctively down her spine. Her sneakers welcomed the ground cheerfully, and she shifted away from him. Eric walked her to her car, sitting outside the front.

Eric stood stark against the dark sky, golden-haired and exceptionally tall. The wind rattled through the night, sending her hair aflutter in the breeze. "Bill will be brought to trial tomorrow," he told her.

"And you'll have to go with him?" Sookie finished for him. From Hadley's many arrests, she knew how many people tended to be hauled in as witnesses to petty crimes - let alone murder.

It was likely to be a few days before she saw Eric again. The knowledge settled strangely within her, an oddity under her skin, in her mind.

"Yes," Eric answered simply.

"Will you tell me before you leave?" Sookie wanted to know.

Before she could recoil from what she had just said, there was a shift in Eric's expression. The hard stone of his face flickered. The hard crease between his eyebrows disappeared, his mouth softened slightly, and she _knew_, instinctively, he wouldn't have loosened around another.

"Yes. I will come to you," said Eric, after a moment. As he gazed down at her, neck bent, there was something troubled forming in his face - a micro expression that Sookie would not have caught without adrenaline in her blood, sharpening her eyes. Eric opened the car door for her and, as Sookie climbed inside, closed it behind her, large hand resting briefly on the door frame. His smile was clouded, finely-sharp and reflexively flirtatious. "Remain safe, Miss Stackhouse, and do try to let your guardians catch up with you."

His eyes, Sookie saw, didn't so much as flit away from her - but Eric's attention lingered with the wolves in the woods, foreboding.

* * *

><p>Lafayette opened the door, looking her over with a low whistle. Sookie, ever the show-woman, twirled around, letting him see her fully.<p>

"_Damn_ hookah," he exclaimed, dragging the words out in his supposed astonishment. Her friend was wearing purple silk pants without a shirt. To her amusement, she saw that he was _still _wearing his make-up and leopard print do-rag. "You look like you oughta been ridden _hard_ and put away wet."

"Funny," Sookie remarked as Lafayete shifted aside, moving into his apartment. "I feel like shit."

"You look like sex," Lala assured. He lowered his head, beautiful brown eyes twinkling. "You been havin' some fun without me, honey child?"

Sookie smirked back, a wicked glint to her dark eyes. "If I done told you once, you son of a bitch, _I'm_ the best that's ever been."

Lafayette laughed, teeth flashing in amusement. "I think that old fucker just turned _all_ the way around in his grave."

"Well, it's better than any country dancing," Sookie said cheerfully.

"True dat," Lafayette agreed. "You wanna throw your shit down, so we can start this par-_tay_?"

Sookie aimed her bag for the couch, and hit her mark perfectly. As much as she loved Lafayette's flippant nature, she made a mental note to warn him about Eric - only not right now, in the morning. She could tell Lafayette was on the wrong side of five shots, not exactly up for listening to her warnings.

"Mind if I shower first?" Sookie asked, reaching up to grasp the back of her neck and roll her head back slightly. Her muscles were sore.

"Knock yourself out, baby," Lafayette said. "You know where everythin' is."

As teenagers, Sookie and Tara had spent a lot of time in Lafayette's apartment. It was a nice getaway from life. Unlike Gran, who, while willing to try anything once, loved them too much to let them risk damaging themselves, Lafayette didn't mind them drinking. To Sookie's lingering shame, they had helped him decorate the place one summer, and failed to convince him that leopard prints were a violation of nature.

"Thanks," Sookie said, moving towards the shower. Before she reached there, she paused. "By the way, Lala? Nice pants." She nodded down at the purple silk with a grin. "Very pimptastic."

Lafayette wiggled his hips, opening his arms to present himself, and she battered her eyelashes at him attractively before turning on her heel, walking away. Fetching two hooker red towels from the closet, Sookie used one of them to cover the (soundless) web camera hidden in Lafayette's bathroom. Even though she trusted Lafayette not to post the recording, she didn't want to risk the camera being a live feed and end up with her tits broadcast all over his website.

Also? It was just _ick_.

It had been a while since Lala had warned her about the camera, so she could only assume there was only one. Just in case, she stripped down to her bra and panties before climbing behind the shower curtain. Then she slipped out of her other clothes, flinging them out of the shower, and removed her necklace. Finally, she turned on the shower, tilting her head up to the spray. The water was cold at first but it warmed up quickly enough.

Just as it did so, a sudden burst of music from the bathroom floor startled Sookie. It was her cell turned the shower off, squeezing and twisting the excess water from her dripping wet hair. Wet feet padding across the bath, Sookie stuck an arm out of the shower, grabbing the towel off the closed toilet seat.

She wrapped it around her chest, rubbing her hands over her cheeks, slicking her hair back before pulling it over her shoulder, resting on her towel-covered breast. She stepped out of the shower onto the bath mat, wiping her hands and wrists on her hips before ducking down to grab her cell from her jean pocket.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace?"

"Sookie," someone gasped in an accent like her own. It was a woman's voice, high enough to suggest someone under thirty and frantic enough to catch her attention instantly.

"Who is this?" Sookie asked.

"It's - it's me, Hadley."

An explosion went on in the back of Sookie's mind. Her dark eyes went huge, eyebrows shooting up her forehead, mouth parting. "_Hadley?_"

"I don't have a whole lotta time, so listen good!" her cousin said frantically. "I mean it, Sookie, you gotta listen to me! I messed up, and I'm so sorry, but they're comin' for you."

Her blood turned to ice. "Who?"

"I didn't mean too!" Hadley cried, like she had spat out an accusation. "I was all homesick, and she was interested, so I kept goin' on. I thought maybe I could come see y'all if I pushed enough, so I told her everythin' she asked - every damn thing I knew about all those tricks of yours - your mind-readin' -"

"Hadley - "

"The vampire Queen of Louisiana. She's powerful, Sook." Hadley sounded fragile and close to tears. "Real powerful. She set someone down to Bon Temps for you."

"Bill Compton," Sookie heard herself say, voice flat.

There was the hitch of a sob from the end. "You were always so damn smart, and tougher than an alley cat. But you gotta play along, Sook, 'cause if you don't he'll drag you to New Orlenes, and you won't never see anybody from Bon Temps ever again."

Sookie felt overwhelmed. Her paranoid suspicions about Bill were right, and Hadley - her cousin Hadley, who she spent so much time thinking was maybe dead - was alive. Her stomach, already twisting sickeningly, worsened. But for how long?

"If she finds out you warned me - "

"She loves me!" Hadley cried, a fanatically convinced note to her voice. It was an ugly sound, like the scream of every woman in an afterschool special about abusive relationships.

"Look, Had -"

"She won't ever hurt me, Sook," Hadley said breathlessly. "She _loves_ me."

"If you're so sure, why are you callin' me, Had? Why ain't you askin' her to let this drop?"

"She loves me," Hadley repeated forcefully, like saying that enough times would make it true before her voice went shrill with distress. "I'm _so_ sorry, Sookie. Promise me you'll play along, and you won't tell anybody about this."

Things were happening so fast that Sookie's head span. It was only reflex that fuelled Sookie into asking any questions at all. "Is there anybody else involved in this?"

"No."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Yes! Promise me, Sookie."

"Hadley, _please_ - "

"_Promise_ me," Hadley begged desperately.

For a moment, Sookie was frozen, so many memories darting through her mind. Hadley had always been closer to Jason before things had gone bad, but they'd had their moments, and they were blood, _cousins_. She loved Hadley. Frankly, the idea of Hadley being close to a vampire Queen was _horrifying_. But she knew Hadley.

Hadley believed someone loved her. Like Tara, she had chased so desperately after that for so long, and she wouldn't give it up no matter what. They had all grown up too poorly for that.

". . . okay."

"Thank you, Sookie, thank you, Sookie -"

And then the dial tone was in Sookie's ears.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary: **In a world where Uncle Bartlett went too far, Sookie Stackhouse decides to embrace herself rather than bend to the townfolk's perception of normal. Years later, she saves a dense vampire from two drainers. Slowburn Sookie/Eric.

**Who else is not watching True Blood this summer?**

* * *

><p>Sookie sat down on the edge of the bathtub and began to apply some of the moisturizing cream she had accidentally left at Lafayette's a some years back when she'd slept over once. She started with her feet, rubbing the cream in so deeply that her muscles ached. As she moved past her ankles and up to her legs, she let her mind drift.<p>

She had been right about Bill. The knowledge was hardly a balm, though there was a petty satisfaction in how sharp her instincts seemed to be. It was nothing compared to the cold panic in her gut. There was a Queen after her. Now, she was hardly a damn expert but a Queen tended to mean a shit load of _power_.

And Hadley wanted her to play along.

On one hand, Sookie could see the sense in that. Bill was failing - _epically_ - and if she kept playing hardball, he would snatch her. She would never see her friends again, and the thought was horrific, even if they were all complete dumbasses right now. She would be taken away from her _home_, her job, her life.

She couldn't go to Eric for help. Hadley's lover was his Queen. Sookie knew he liked her, was fond of her, but she had no idea how loyal he was to his Queen. She felt reasonably sure that he wasn't involved in this, behind the curtain where Hadley couldn't see. It wasn't his style.

Right now, she was tentatively trusting her instincts. From the second she'd laid eyes on Bill, she'd known he was bad news. Though she hadn't been able to let him die, she had felt it. Eric felt rough and raw and scary as fuck but _genuine_.

Sookie wasn't a child. She lived with ugly truths and ugly secrets every single second of the day. Nothing was dismissed out of hand, but she felt certain that Eric was real with her.

Perhaps she would tell Eric in the future, but not now. Her instincts were on his side, but her mind protested that a few days of wait would be wise. Bill would be on trial soon. He would be away from her, from her family in Bon Temps, so she had some time.

It was strange that she felt so certain Eric would help her if he knew. Like her aversion to Bill, it was plain instinct, deep and set like stone. It would be understandable if Eric didn't help her. They'd known each other for such a short time, and he had already done more than she'd ever expected for her. Despite her wary nature, she wasn't blind to any of that.

And now for Bill.

What the hell should she do about him?

For a brief moment, a thought - dark and cold and inhuman - flickered in her head. Bill _was_ blind. He looked at her, and saw only the blonde hair, big eyes, soft skin and small stature. He didn't see the cold survivor's rationality under her skin, or the force of her fury and panic that could knock a werewolf to the floor easy, or her twists of deceit.

It would be easy to play interested and softened by his act of sacrifice for her, to melt like ice in a blaze, and then to stab a stake in his chest when he turned his back oh-so-arrogantly. It would be murder, perhaps justified, but that was undeniable.

Sookie could be a cold bitch when it came down to the nuts and bolts of things.

Her dismissal of the idea was purely rational. Eric had shown how little he tolerance he possessed for human-vampire violence, and she wasn't nearly stupid enough to think there wasn't a good chance of him figuring her out. She wasn't exactly sure how he would react. Regardless, the Queen would send another in Bill's place. Though vampires didn't place much value on human intelligence, there was a risk of the next one being competent.

Another idea rankled at her like sharpened claws, fury bubbling in her stomach and worry twisting her mind, but she might have to follow through on her promise to Hadley and wait things out. She _loathed_ the idea of spending time with Bill, especially now.

Of course, this could be a clever ploy to get her closer to Bill, so he would have more chances to snatch her up. But considering she had sent Bill rather than _Eric_, maybe that was giving the Queen too much credit.

To perk herself up, she thought about the bright side. Bill was practically _hired_ to keep her ass in one piece, so she had yet another failsafe when he came back, and she could continue cheerfully tormenting him. After all - a wicked and faintly sadistic smile curved her lips - it would be simply_ unrealistic_ for her personality to turn into hugs and puppies.

If she hadn't backed her shit down with Eric, she wasn't about to do it for some lazy Queen and Bill Bastard Compton.

For now, she needed to check her funny bone for damage.

After washing the excess cream off her hands, Sookie splashed her face with water, ran a hand through her damp hair which was already curling messily, and put her clothes back on. She could hear laughter from the living room - Lafayette and Tara. A smile formed on her face, wide and sincere.

Cheerfully flashing her middle finger to the web camera in Lala's bathroom, Sookie exited the bathroom and went to her friends. Tara was curled up on the couch, drink in hand, and Lafayette was sprawled all over his armchair, clearly having just tipped back a shot. There was music playing, something bright to match the air in the room, and Sookie felt her amusement blooming like a rose.

It was a scene she knew so damn well, the prelude to some anarchy, only she was fairly intent to keep their drinking grounded. The nudist colony was funny as hell in hindsight - and so was that _cult_ that they had somehow stumbled across - and every other incident had become mostly fond memories, but it would grade A+ in stupidity (surpassing even Jason's worst moments) if they went wild like that while someone was hot for her head on a pike.

"Startin' without me?" Sookie asked, her voice light and arched to sing with amusement. She fell down into her usual seat on the couch with Tara, closest to the door, and snagged the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into the empty shot glass left aside for her.

Tara snorted harshly, "You expected us to wait?"

"I'd be disappointed in you if you had," Sookie confessed. Tara shook her head, tossing back her shot, but a smile lurked at the tired corners of her eyes. "Besides, Lala's already deep in Wonderland." Her dark gaze flickered to the man himself, eyes bright with amusement. "A fair warning; if we're talkin' Tim Burton's version, my love only extends _so_ far."

Lafayette made an appreciative noise deep in his throat, smoky with drink, a quirk to his lips. "Hmm _mmm_. Johnny Dep that fucker is sex on a _stick_."

Tara poured another shot, face still amused. "How many times did we watch that damn movie?"

"I think the real question is, how many times did you cry like a bitch at the end of that _damn_ movie?" Sookie twisted the words round on her cheerfully, flashing her friend a challenging grin before tossing her shot back.

The whiskey burned down her throat, and she resisted the urge to vomit up her lung in a gory pool of blood. She wasn't a hard liquor girl but sometimes, you just needed a hard hit. Today had just been one of those days.

"Fuck you," Tara retorted with heartbreaking wit.

Sookie batted her eyelashes prettily, a messy curl of drying blonde hair tumbling into her face. "Oh, Tara, I just don't know," she said in a breathless voice. Her Gran had been obsessed with Marilyn Monroe, and Sookie tried to imitate her voice, managing it reasonably well. She swallowed, eyes huge and dark. "Will you respect me in the morning?"

"If you two gonna work out all that _sexual_ _tension,_ you _ain't_ doin' it in my damn bed," Lafayette drawled out, voice sensual and heavy with implications.

"Bullshit," Tara scoffed at him. "There ain't no sexual tension."

"Your bed has seen _far _worse than imaginary lesbian sex," Sookie pointed out to Lafayette, laughing as she poured herself a second shot. "I'm surprised it doesn't have PTSD."

Lafayette grinned wickedly at her. "My bed ain't shakin' for no other reason than the nasty shit going on _between_ the sheets."

"Now, now, Lala," Sookie shook a finger at him scoldingly before her grin cracked through, wide and bright, "If I wanted details, I'd visit your _site_."

"Careful, Sook," Tara cut in warningly. The blonde threw back her next shot, feeling the burn spreading through her body. "He'll want you all up on his nasty site next."

Lafayette winked at her.

"Oh baby, there ain't enough whiskey in the _world_."

"I know your drunken self, bitch," Lafayette claimed, a colorful amusement snaking through his voice. "You _is_ a wild thing."

Sookie shot Lafayette an alluring look that was about as effected as hitting on a priest. "Am I not crazy enough for you sober, Lala?"

"Any time, any day, you're a crazy motherfucker, honey-child, but there ain't no such thing as too crazy."

"I beg to differ," Tara scoffed.

"You can beg as much as you want but I'm a delayed gratification kind of girl," Sookie told her brightly. There was something about Lafayette that spurred her on, and put her mind firmly in the innuendo camp.

Lafayette cackled, lifting his empty glass in a toast. "That's the way to do it, hookah."

"Nudist colony," Tara spat.

Sookie winced, experiencing a traumatic flash of waking up to a group of naked old people staring down at them, along with a flash of hysterical amusement at the sheer surrealism. Lala settled in his chair, closing his eyes to bask in the memories with a sound of enjoyment.

"One day, I'm gonna remember how and _why_ we broke into that place, and I'm going to kill myself," Sookie declared. It was probably her fault anyway. The three of them seemed perfectly able to pass as sober while out of their heads, and that reminded her of _Tara's_ worst memory of their antics. "Oh, and, Tara? Religious camp."

Tara stiffened slightly at the memory of that incident. "Remember when we woke up in that field in the middle of goddamn nowhere?"

"I remember how we were woken _up_, but not much else for like a week after that . . . _think_ I went a bit blind," she added.

"I ain't surprised," Lafayette interjected. His eyes were warm with amusement, and she grinned broadly back at the inside joke. Her friend shook his head faintly, mind turning back to the cult. "Whole damn camp was _full_ of bad juju, and hate, and fuckin' hallelujah music."

Sookie started laughing hard, recalling a certain image from that incident. Between their hang-overs and the extreme views of the camp, that morning had been _crazy_. "On the plus side," she said brightly, continuing to laugh, "It was the easiest escape we've ever had."

All it had taken was some flirting (the priests' _faces_) on Lafayette's part, some snarling snark on hers (everyone's _faces_), some raging from Tara, and they were flung head-first out of the door.

There were thousands of other memories, snap-shots of brawls and drunken kisses and stumbling out of bars in a barely controlled fall, laughing so hard it hurt into Lala's arm, or waking up with Tara's hair in her mouth in a farm away from Bon Temps to the sound of a farmer's shotgun cocking, mere inches from her face while Johnny Cash's Ring Of Fire poured out of his truck's radio. Now _that_ had been a bitch of a thing to wake up too.

More drinks were poured, more shots were tossed back, and more laughter hit the air, ringing out, bouncing off each other. Slowly, they began to sink under the influence. In her last act of reason, Sookie locked the front door and dug her small red purse out of the sports bag to hid her spare key.

"Shit like that doesn't happen to most people," Tara remarked. Despite the light air, she seemed cynical, looking down into the bottom of her shot glass. "We're all so fucked up."

"S'great," Sookie declared, raising her glass in a toast. "Who wants to be normal, anyhow?" she demanded, squinting briefly at her glass, unsure if it was empty or not. "Only people worth knowin' are outta their trees."

If Lafayette had been conscious, he would've agreed. Unfortunately, he was sprawled over his chair, do-rag covering his face. Briefly, the telepath checked his mind to make sure he hadn't smothered himself in his sleep, and then backed the fuck out of there. Lala's mind was deeply immersed in sex and other sensual experiences. She tried not to intrude more than she had too.

"I wanna get an exorcism," Tara said suddenly.

Sookie's head jerked, eye rolling strangely around in her head until they settled on Tara, a confused pout shaping her lips as she blinked at her, waiting for her to stop moving around. It ain't polite not to look at somebody when they spoke. "Pea soup?"

Maybe she could make some of that. If she remembered where the kitchen was, and how to move, and did Lala have peas? And how was pea soup made? Was it mashed peas all heated up? It sounded icky.

"Ferrets," Tara corrected, sounding understandably depressed.

It took Sookie several moments to realise that Tara wasn't hungry, and remember something about a crazy bitch drowning a ferret. "PETA is gonna murder you," she informed her friend sluggishly. "Like squish, flat, in a sluggy smush."

Tara ignored her. Her eyes had gone distant, an almost bleak dampness swelled in her dark gaze. "It worked for my mama, so it's gotta work me. I ain't worse than her." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"Your mama," Sookie began, slurred tone holding great wisdom, "Is a dumbass."

Even in her drunken state, Tara bristled defensively. She was an all-in girl, throwing everything into a belief until she was sinking under dangerously fast, and Sookie had to toss her a life jacket. "At least _my_ mama wants me when she's sober."

There was a slight prickling in her chest, a faint sting that was more from who was saying it than the words. It was only the truth. "Like I said," Sookie replied, arching her eyebrow cheekily, "Your mama's a dumbass."

Ah, best friends - they always knew how to hurt you the best.

In a spiteful gesture, she poured two more shot glasses, and handed one to Tara. Her childhood friend looked at her, unresponsive for a moment before reaching out to take the glass, and tossing it smoothly back. The taller woman slumped on the couch with a groan, closing her eyes. Sookie watched her for several moments, seeing the sting drain from her face, and the tension leaking away until Tara was asleep.

Reaching over to unsteadily reclaim the glass, she put it aside and tossed back her own shot. It burned down her throat hard, forcing her to cough and suck in a breath to cool the flames.

Tara and Lala were under, so what now?

Her gaze drifted, moving smoothly around the room. There were circles under her eyes that served to give her an almost hunting look, like the nasty side of life and death. Her cell phone rested on the edge of the table, just beside her small red purse. Well - she picked it up - there was always that.

She gazed at her cell for a moment. It trembled unsteadily at her eye level, arms numb from a mixture of booze and lack of sleep. For a split dizzying second, she thought about calling Eric - just to see if he came, just to see him.

Unlike most people, she liked his company. He was a tricky bastard, and her brain sparked with adrenaline, with actual _interest_, whenever he opened his mouth.

Only she had seen him less than an hour ago, and she was drunk, and she wasn't sure she wanted (more reasonably, trusted) him to see her like this. Her mouth felt fast and reckless, parting faintly as she lingered in the thought.

She had damn good reasons for not spilling all about Hadley. She had damn good reasons not to get all trusting and smushy like every dumb teenager stalking the globe. Nearly a week wasn't enough time to put your life on someone's priority list for normal people, let alone her - paranoid and issues like whoa, remember?

But she wanted to talk to Eric for shits and giggles, and she had shitty impulse control when it came to shits and giggles.

Sookie touched her tongue to her tooth, dark eyes glinting, and then, a slow smile spreading slickly across her mouth, she made her choice.

* * *

><p>Eric paced, long agitated strides eating up his office. His form was coiled tight with fury. After his meeting with the werewolves and his pretty human, he had felt the need to bleed out his hot rage before it became a problem. He had questioned Compton extensively about the graveyard incident, framing his questions to sound idly curious about the younger vampire's obsession with his telepath, and then tortured him even more intently for the lack of answers.<p>

There was no break in the pattern; Compton was a self-righteously arrogant waste of blood.

The Viking could easily imagine Sookie's expression if she were able to hear his thoughts. _Well now, _she thrilled in his mind, all sing-song and glittering eyes. S_omebody has anger issues._

His spitfire had a subtle charm to her that went deeper than admirable curves and wavy blonde hair and those pretty dresses he wanted to rip to shreds before biting his way across her golden skin.

He vividly recalled the searing heat of her skin, the pretty white lace of her panties under his thumb, the tiny rock of her hips, the soft parting of her mouth as she began to open up for him. He could have made her scream for him, crying out his name over and over until her voice failed, but she - with her animal dark eyes and flushed red mouth - had stopped herself.

In his clothes, his scent freshly marking her body, she had looked _his_. His dick throbbed hard at the thought, urging him to find her and fuck her until that was a reality.

His savage primal instincts simmered, ready to explode at the next filthy werewolf to look her way. Because of the possible consequences to their overwhelming idiocy, the two flea-ridden dogs were lucky not to have joined Compton and the rogue vampires in his basement. Eric couldn't risk his tiny human hearing of their disappearance.

Sookie was a fascination, a deserved one who chased off three vampires, near successfully fought off another, and bloodied up a werewolf whilst successfully controlling the other elements of her life. She couldn't be human, though he had never encountered one like her.

Eric's thoughts turned in a different direction, focusing on a less interesting mystery.

There was very little information swirling around about the new creature in his area. He had rattled all of his contacts, and so far, the only fruit gathered were rumours of wild parties. She was, however, confirmed to be supernatural. A few of his more loyal vampires were looking into the matter further.

One productive (inescapable) telepath, one serial killer, one unknown creature in his territory, one tribunal, four disruptions ready to be dealt with . . . _I want a pear tree, _his imagined Sookie voice announced.

And one ringing cell phone with Sookie Stackhouse on the Caller ID.

Eric lingered a moment. She was a distraction, and he had yet to decide if that was a good thing. Godric had instructed him many times to control his emotions, to be rational. Aside from a few slip-ups, he had been able to do so.

It was boring.

No woman had ever pushed him away before. Even as a human, it had rarely been more than a small challenge to charm his way between a woman's legs. But Sookie told him to stop, even with her lust damp on his fingertips. Sometimes she smiled up at him with a blazing genuine life, her dark eyes glittering with affection, yet she'd said no.

She wasn't the most cautious woman or a judgmental one, fighting to save her brother despite his raging idiocy and continuing a friendship with a dealer of vampire blood though he'd glimpsed fury in her eyes when her friend's profession was revealed. She was no blushing virgin or prude.

His cell continued to buzz, and almost without thought, Eric accepted the call. Even as he was lifting the phone to his ear, her laughter - hard and bright and genuine - was filling his ears.

"Eric!" she said with a cheerful force that arched his eyebrows. Her accent was thickened, dragging slowly over the sounds of his name. It sounded husky and wicked.

"Sookie," he stated, a minimal degree of familiarity in his disinterested voice.

In the back of his mind, Eric began to calculate how long it would take him to fetch her from her drug-dealer friend's side and transfer her to his home. There would be hours remaining until dawn. The furthest she was from Bon Temps, the safer she would be.

His spitfire laughed again, a soft wisping sound that went straight to his dick. "Eric, _Eric, _Bill is a baaastard," she announced in an ecstatic voice, drawing the insult out with feigned petulance. "Stomp on him for me?"

As happy as Eric was to stomp on Bill Compton, he was intrigued by her request, and the contrasting tone paired with it. He recognized the slur in her voice.

"Are you intoxicated?" asked Eric, allowing his incredulity to color his tone.

There was an unpleasant snag in his stomach, not unlike the taste of bad blood or a hard hit to the kidneys. Worry. The thought was ridiculous so he shoved it aside. Instead he vividly recalled several sneak attacks sprung on him in his drunken human years.

Eric had been older than Sookie and far better trained but without his men, he would have been felled two years before Godric had caught sight of him.

It was one human man, not a band of raiders, but he felt his temper shortening as he waited for her reply.

* * *

><p>Before calling Eric, Sookie had tossed back a few more shots. In an act that proved self-preservation overcame everything, she had pillaged Lala's baseball bat from the bedroom, and she was on a low level of alertness. If anybody wanted to kill her, she was gonna sense it.<p>

Despite what many people assumed, there was a difference between being lively and being an idiot. She was _twenty-four_, an age that demanded a bit of fun for the sake of life, man, and life was all, you know?

Her mental voice tended to turn into a college-hippie sometimes.

"I passed that couple somethin's ago," Sookie chirped happily to her cell phone, absently twisting her wrist and twirling the bat. "I might die of alcohol poisonin' but if I don't, I'll slice a vein and make you a Bloody Sookie."

She heard the hard click of fangs snapping down. On that first night at Fangtasia, Eric had bared his fangs at her. It had been a challenging gesture to her, and a snub to Bill.

Now she was fairly sure it meant he _wanted, _and a great deal too. Had to be for him to lose control like this.

"I prefer to drink directly from the source," Eric drawled, missing the mark to arrogant and ending up closer to a sex-rough rasp. Pretty. She heard the sound of his fangs retracting. "Remain where you are."

"I like where I am," she told him breezily, wiggling her toes. It was a pretty dance, all red nails and tanned skin, and it tickled, the way the air moved against her skin. Dimly she heard Eric's voice, and then there was silence.

Matter of fact, she dropped her cell, and let it hit the floor. She twirled the baseball bat around, starting slow and building up until it was a blur, and her wrist was twisting automatically, movements smooth as anything.

A blank mind tore through her dizzy-unfocused thoughts like a glinting blade through cheap paper, and she felt Eric. Sensed him, no guessing games, just facts. Eric Northman was coming to her.

(Annnd he wanted to come with her - ha ha!)

There was a light rap on the window, and she twisted slowly around, trying not to disturb her stomach. She parted the pimpishly purple mini-curtains, revealing Eric's faintly amused face. She unlatched the window, pushing it up, looking out at him.

"What brings you t' these parts, my prettiest vampire?"

"Prettiest?" Eric echoed lowly. His eyebrow arched. "That implies you have others. Surely not Compton?"

Sookie puffed a breath at him, mouth settling into a pout. "My one, my only," she slurred promisingly.

Eric lowered his head, expression shifting with intrigue. "I will hold you to that," he cautioned, a note less than playful in his voice.

"And I will hold you t' answerin' my question," Sookie announced, reaching out to poke in his general direction. Vampire speed, Eric snatched her hand, bringing it to his chest. She could feel so many things, the soft material of his black shirt, the coolness of his skin under it, and the rough skin on his hands.

She could feel him as well, his amusement and opportunistic cunning could almost bury his concern. And lust, always lust for her. She could feel her own slow deep burn for him under the whiskey-daze.

"I'm waiting for you to invite me in so I can protect you . . . or have passionate primal sex with you." His grey-blue eyes deepened, a darkness swirling through them. His voice was flawlessly smooth, enchanting. "How about both?"

Oh. Her witty sexy vampire. Sookie grinned, wide and wicked and utterly breathless. Gleeful laughter rattled her chest, bubbling happily out of her mouth like sparkling champagne, and dizzily, trustingly, she let her giggles swing her away.

Her head tipped so far backwards that her long blonde hair teased the small of her back where her tank top had ridden up to reveal a strip of curvy muscle. It bared her throat to him like an offering to appease an angry god, and her world blurred before her eyes. She was overcome by vertigo, and like a vice, Eric's hand tightened on hers. She could feel the strength in his fingers as he held her from falling off the couch and smashing through the coffee table.

"_Eric_," Sookie drawled out. "As impressive as I'm sure it is, I don't need you and your dick t' come save me from my drunkness." With her other hand, she gestured at the baseball bat. Using his hold on her, she pulled herself slowly forward again, rolling her head back down to smile at him, dark eyes hooded. "I don't care what ya are, bat to the balls has gotta hurt."

Eric's eyebrows were raised in a cool amusement but his eyes were blackened by the sensual ease of her movements. Her heart stuttered at the sight. His eyes burned her up like a volcano. The heat ate through her haze.

Her smile shifted, torn between genuine emotion and a teasing flirtation. "But thank you for thinkin' of me."

Eric's thumb stroked over the back of her hand, a slow gesture that set her nerves on fire. His eyes caught hers and held them captive, no way could she look away. "Come with me."

Sookie blinked, head fuzzy with drink and lust. "Where?" And then a click, an arch of her eyebrow. "Why're you so intent on gettin' me to your place?"

Eric's smirk was a beautiful elusive thing. "Because your place is splattered with animal blood."

It took a second for Sookie to get the joke, and when she did, even the memory couldn't stop her from laughing.

"C'mon," she wheeled, slumping against the window-frame and battering her eyelashes. "Why?"

There was another brush of his rough thumb pad on her skin, making her brain fizze helplessly. "Why not?" he challenged.

Sookie paused, smile widening recklessly. She could have cooed proudly at him for using that line against her but there wasn't enough whiskey-induced dumbassery in the . . . well, Bon Temps.

The drink had dulled her paranoid side, loosening the bolts of any lingering sensible impulses in her body. There were reasons to trust Eric not to go all stereotypical Viking on her. He needed her, he wanted her, he _liked _her, and he had stopped_ for _her_._

So why the fuck not? Sookie Stackhouse had a lion-heart, bitches.

"You could eat me," Sookie chided coyly, a last tease.

Eric's eyes sparked, a pale grey-blue flare of a warrior's light. "Only if you ask very, _very_ nicely." And then he offered her a glimmering white hand.

Her arm went back, threading through the strap of her small red handbag, before Sookie took his hand and let him help her slide through the window. Eric held her steady when she wavered, and there was something close to tender in the weight of his hands on her shoulders.

Sookie squinted up at him through the dizzying swirls of light in her vision. "Promise?"

Eric was silent for a split second, his gaze drilling into her face. She felt very conscious of his hands on her, though they did not move or draw attention in any way. Aside from the fact that he was touching her. His golden hair was stark against the night, and the blue of his eyes was vivid in his pale face.

"I promise, my tiny human," Eric said finally.

There was no particular weight in his voice or sentiment but Sookie found an unexpected prize in the words.

In her defense, she was very drunk.

* * *

><p><strong>Pay attention, my doves!<strong>

**Season 1 is very nearly over, and to celebrate this, I've decided to torture myself.**

**Basically, I plan to take requests and write small snapshots of scenes based on those requests. So send me a review with a word and the character you want me to write about. ****For example, Sookie - Eyes or Eric - Orange or Lafayette - Childhood.**


	16. Chapter 16

Eric recalled enough of his human drinking sprees to bring one of his least favourite cars to Lafayette Reynolds' home. His red corvette was the finishing touch to his image, risking an encounter with the contents of his tiny human's stomach was unacceptable.

Walking along beside him with a loose grip on his arm, Sookie made a kittenish noise of approval and twisted her head to flash him a glowing grin. "Very pretty."

"I'm glad you approve," Eric said with an arch sarcasm. Her smile was a powerful thing, an unashamed flash of white teeth and brutal honesty that occasionally taunted his hackles.

Genuine tended to be the death of many baby vampires. Pam had been refreshingly free of human sentiment before he had turned her, perhaps more so than even he had been some years after Godric turned him. He had chosen well with her. In a thousand years, there had only been one other worthy of their blood.

Sookie Stackhouse was such a colorful creature. It would be a waste for her to live only a human's life span. Or perhaps those like her lived longer. So far, she was too young to show signs of a prolonged youth - especially considering the difference in how twenty four had looked in his time and how it looked this century.

"Aww," she sighed, looking up at him. Her dark eyes sparkled wickedly. "Why so _grumpy_?" she pouted dramatically at him. "You didn't _have_ t'come semi-kidnap me, my darling vampire."

"I hardly kidnapped you," Eric replied, arching his eyebrows. When she breathed in, her tank top strained against the curves of her breasts. Her top was tiny, exposing her neck, her shoulders and a distracting amount of her chest. "As I recall, you came willingly."

"Eric," Sookie said, a breathless urgency in her voice that tightened her tank top again and violently redirected his blood flow. "Eric, I'm . . . I'm _epically _drunk right now." Something dark slivered through her eyes, faltering her smile. "My consent's not what it should be. Never what it should be."

Her tone was so far removed from her previous cheer that the sentence could be unrelated. Her words struck through his mind like a blade, burning themselves vividly into his memory. The implications were damning. A slow cold-burn of anger started from the deepest pits of his stomach and began to expand rapidly until it turned sickly hot and thunderous, _murderous_.

It was a hypocritical anger, he knew. Over a thousand years, he had bedded several less than sober women. But the idea of someone taking advantage of his tiny human in such a state enraged him, and not purely from a possessive standpoint.

There was something not unlike respect for Sookie within him and the incident had clearly harmed her deeply.

"While I have the greatest of respect for your consent," Eric told her, steel under his falsely amused voice. "If you are sober enough to defend yourself from a serial killer, you are _clearly_ capable of controlling yourself."

Sookie looked at him for a moment, and then she cracked a grin, like nothing had happened. "Oh, baby, I'm _always_ up for a little violence," she cheered, voice bubbling with glee. "Which kinda explains a lot, you know?" she mused. "No wonder people keep tryin' to whack me."

Eric narrowed his eyes at her last comment, and Sookie caught the gesture, "Yeah," she shrugged. "It happens _waaaay_ more than you would think. Well, no, because I'mma bad person, and this _is_ the South, but still. Sucks."

He felt his lip curl. Idiot humans. "I presume you mean the vampire drainers from several nights ago."

_Murderers_.

Sookie flashed an enigmatic smile at him. There was something wildly reckless about the gesture. "I've known about werewolves since I was fourteen," she told him. "Some of the big bad wolves didn't like Red Riding Hood and her pretty mouth."

As if to clue him in, she pouted her own red lips at him.

Eric felt his mood darkening further at her honesty though he kept the sheer depth of it from his face with centuries of practice. He recalled the edge of tension fizzling between Seers and Sookie, the hard mocking in his spitfire's smile. He had dismissed it as a petty disagreement or a grudge against his girl's sense of humor. Now, there was only one conclusion he could come to, and he felt far from favourable about it.

"Dawson fought for you," he assumed.

Sookie looked at him, a primal heat in her eyes that forced him to fight the responding growl clawing up his throat. This girl, so soft and small but hardened and powerful. It was driving him to the brink of insanity, this desire to possess her spirit and her body and her blood and her utterly _honest_ grins, to break anyone else who saw even a hint of them.

And obliterate the slightest threat to them. Like Seers, and Dawson, who was fucking irresponsible enough to let this happen - to let this girl within a mile of _any_ werewolves.

"I fought for me," she told him, smiling in that way at him, forgiving the frankly idiotic assumption that she couldn't do so. "Puppies ain't so strong in people form, fast though, mind. I have . . ." Her hand moved unsteadily in the air before clumsily poking the side of her head as she drunkenly fumbled for the words. "A cheat."

Smiling proudly, she began to veer to the side. Just before she was out of arm's reach, Eric grasped the edge of her tank-top and tugged her closer to him. With a noise, she tripped over herself and bumped into his side. She was soft and curvy, burning unexpectedly hot through his clothes. She felt like fire, wild and painfully bright.

It was fitting, Eric decided.

He curved his arm around her full waist, palming her curved hip with ease. He could snap the bone with a sudden burst of pressure, and he had done so many times before, but he felt a certain smugness at touching her like this.

As a claim, the gesture held no water but she was accepting his touch. In fact, Sookie always accepted his touch, though she had been close to striking Compton for the same crime. She had allowed him to superficially claim her before another vampire the night of her grandmother's murder.

It gave him more than enough ground to act if his suspicions about her were proven to be correct.

"You know," Sookie began in a vague voice. Her tiny fingers curled around one of his belt-loops, holding onto him and tugging lightly yet insistently. "Only person to ever be okay with that." Her tone was unexpectedly tender, _meaningful_, and it left an imprint on his memory, even as surprise ghosted over her face.

As they reached his BMW convertible, she added flippantly, "Think that means we should get married or somethin'."

Opening the door for her, Eric arched an eyebrow, dry and carelessly. He tried not to picture fucking her in their marriage bed since the risk of flinging her down on the blue hood and making her scream loud enough for everyone to hear was already dangerously high. "Indeed."

"Rasp," she muttered nonsensically.

Twisting her gracefully around in his arms, feeling her scent rubbing off on him, Eric piled his tiny human into the car and there was the sudden soft warmth of her lips on his cheek. His eyes snapped to hers, and she gave a little lazy shrug.

* * *

><p>After some deliberation, Eric took Sookie to his home in Monroe. It was a smaller place than he usually went for but he assumed she would be more comfortable here. His tiny human was a talkative drunk, rambling on breathlessly, eyes bright and entranced by every word she was saying. It was unexpectedly easy to listen to her voice. She was not dull or repetitive like the few drunks he had encountered.<p>

She was amusing and curious enough to ask many questions, all about him.

When he pulled into the gravel driveway to his home, she was laughing at some memory locked away in her head. Her laughter filled the car, drifting freely up to the night sky. There was nothing controlled or elegant about it, just a raw amusement that swayed his opinion strangely.

"Aren't you . . . Vikings supposed t' all have nicknames?" she wondered as he killed the BMW's engine.

Eric arched his eyebrow in amused disbelief at the colloquialism. "In that time, many men shared forenames. A distinguishing attribute was required for clarification."

His tone was clipped and curt with disinterest, warning her away from the subject. His human life was irrelevant to him now, and certainly none of her business.

At vampire speed, Eric shot out of the car and around to help Sookie stumble out of the vehicle without tasting concrete. That would hardly be hospitable of him, now, would it?

When she had steadied herself, closed her door, and drifted vaguely in the direction of his front door, she started speaking again. "What's yours?" her voice was slurred and dreamy as though she had no attention left to spare on sounding focused.

His warning seemed to have flown over her head. Or perhaps she simply ignored it. Eric had difficulty deciding how to react to Sookie. Between his advanced age, his impressive form and a myriad of other sensible reasons, it was rare to encounter someone truly unafraid of him. It was a near unprecedented situation. He had yet to puzzle out a reasonable response.

The truth was out of the question. His past was not a game for a drunken woman of only twenty-four. He owed her nothing, certainly not secrets only Godric knew.

Sharply, Eric pressed the lock button on his car keys, swept an arm behind her, and pushed her just shy of roughly in the direction of his home. His enhanced hearing picked up the hitch in her breath, the stutter of her heart, and he felt her muscle shift under his hand, a small stiffening that would cloak her intentions but add muscle to her attack.

In the back of his mind, under the rushed roar of _anger_ crashing over his mind with the force of the North Sea, he noticed an expert touch to the movement. His tiny human had been trained. The detail made it difficult to control his fangs. Had she learned to fight too late, or had someone beaten her down before she could use it?

Eric's mind worked fast but it was hastened by fury, by the blood-hungry demand for revenge. His spitfire was clever. If she had felt threatened, she would not have been moral in her search. She would use her telepathy.

Unless it was someone she trusted. Jason Stackhouse had mentioned an old flame, JB DuRone . . .

"Is it embarrassing?" Sookie said teasingly, slicing through his thoughts. Eric recognized the attempted distraction, and he allowed it. He directed the brutal energy of his rage toward how to create a situation where she would feel obliged to answer his questions honestly. "_My_ nickname was," she added.

Eric glanced at her but she simply grinned at him as they walked to his front door. He unlocked the door, stowing the key away when he felt her move, clothes shifting, then a brush of hot air against his neck. Arousal shot down his spine, hitting his dick hard and fast and distracting.

"Sookie Stacked," she provided in an overly grim tone that cracked with humor toward the end.

The sharp contrast of amusement and lust startled Eric enough that he very nearly laughed at the juvenile play on words. He vividly recalled his first sight of her - small and tanned and curved beautifully within the tight confines of her red and white dress, like the beam of the Aurora Borealis against a blackened night. Her lush figure was an extremely welcome change from the rake-thin look many women seemed to favor.

"Charming," he deadpanned, unimpressed.

He stepped inside his home, flattening a smirk between his lips before turning his head to see Sookie Stackhouse enter his home. She kicked off her shoes in an automatic movement, clinging to his walls for balance, and closed the door behind her.

His tiny human didn't glance around or compliment his nest. Her dark eyes locked on him, focused in a more familiar way. She had a goal, and intensity burned within her gaze, wanting answers.

Those eyes kept burning even when she smiled at him and entered a little deeper into his home, feet silent on the sitting room's thick carpet, a willing guest to a thousand-year-old vampire. Another string of giggles tumbled from Sookie's mouth, and she twisted her body around in a pirouette, golden blonde hair spinning around with her. When she stopped, she grinned wildly at him, big and bright.

"C'mon, Eric," she drawled out, a provocative dance in her voice. Her head was slightly bowed, leaving her to look starkly at him under her eyelashes. Those eyes were cinders, and her voice a playful purr, "I'll fight you for it."

Eric's first response was a searingly hot flood of arousal, the challenge boiled his blood, and he felt his expression darkening with it. His fangs went down hard, and he didn't care to stop them. Especially when her scent hit the air, cutting deeply into his nerves like blood in the water.

Her lust was a vivid burst in the air, something rough and maddeningly alluring, and it belonged to _him_. No other would cause this in her or smell her lust, least they misunderstand it as an invitation. An animal snarl rumbled in his chest at the idea, bone-deep and instinctively furious with the idea.

But it was discarded fast. Sookie wanted to play.

Fight and fuck had always triggered his hindbrain - only Eric wanted her to be sharp-tongued and fire-eyed when he took her, not shiny-eyed from drink and half unaware. He wanted to hear her gasp and moan and sob his name, scream it as she came around his cock, but most of all, he wanted that to be her _choice_.

Any other course of action would be to betray the faith she showed in coming with him and _trusting_ him not to hurt her like another had.

(Eric would start by slowly roasting his dick to mere _ashes_.)

"Will you now?" he asked, hearing the deepened rumble of his own voice only distantly. His head lowered, mirroring her wolfish stance with far more menace. He could destroy her so easily.

"No vamp speed," she said, smile curving wickedly. "No hyped-up muscle man stuff either. No teeth, serious injuries or hits to certain spots that tend to make people hulk out in a blind rage, and the first one on the floor unable to get up loses."

Wrestling rather than fighting, then.

Even without vampire speed or strength, Eric could have her on the floor pinned hopelessly under him within seconds but he wanted to play along before claiming his dubious victory.

"And the prize is information," he said lowly. "No lies."

Her eyes narrowed in calculation and amusement as she swayed from the balls of her feet to her toes. "No lies," she echoed, a split second before she acted swiftly, drawing her leg up fast and lashing out in a roundhouse kick almost high enough to reach his head.

Eric dodged at human speed, coming down hard on his instinctive reaction to grab her leg and twist until it broke. Instead he grabbed her behind the knee and _pulled_ hard enough to jolt her balance beyond salvation, dropping the limb to avoid a break. Without trying to regain her balance, Sookie went down with a yelp but she kicked up with her other leg, and this time, she hit her mark - the little cluster of nerves below his hipbone.

His system lit up brightly, shocking the feeling out of his legs, and Eric crashed down with her, landing above her, just catching himself before they could collide. He felt torn between fury and the urge to laugh in delight at her. The first strike had been a feint, and unused to fighting like this, he had overlooked it. It had been a lucky shot.

Like a vice, her legs clamped around him, hips thrusting violently upwards, and she threw her rather inconsiderable body weight up into him. However, it worked, and the rules forced him to allow himself to be flipped, and then Sookie was above him. She half fell forward to kiss his forehead, a warm open affection in the small gesture, before settling on his body.

Her legs were forced wide open around his hips, which left his erection pressed directly between her thighs. She jerked against him in shock, thighs squeezing briefly, mouth parting beautifully, and within her next heartbeat, he had her on back again.

However, she twisted a leg around his, slamming her heel into the back of his knee. Her reward was a snarled grunt, and he settled his weight down on her limbs, locking them under him. If it had been anyone else, he would have torn their throat out or headbutted them but he had no desire to harm her, and she was hardly a threat.

Sookie was laughing under him, even as she struggled clumsily against her trappings. Eric intercepted a blow to his kidneys easily, recognized the feint this time, and caught her other hand before it could prod the nerve cluster under his cheek. Then her hips jerked against his dick, _rolling_ herself over that area, a tease of heat, the scent of _their_ arousal, intertwining together, and just as she attempted to push him away, his patience fractured.

Her back had risen a mere inch off the floor before Sookie was promptly slammed back down, a small grunt escaping her mouth at the force, her arms pinned above her head, and Eric felt his fangs snapping down, a territorial growl trying to claw its way out of his throat.

"Oh _crap_," stated Sookie, staring up at him with unafraid eyes. "Your subconscious hasn't decided it wants t' eat me, has it? 'Cause I gotta say, _not_ down with that plan."

"I have no intentions of eating you." His lust-dark eyes became lidded and openly hungry. "Tonight."

Her heart stuttered in his ears, and her expression matched it, faintly alarmed, faintly _interested_. A slow satisfaction climbed up his spine, even as she murmured, "'S a bad idea."

"You never know, my tiny human," Eric said lowly. "You might enjoy it."

Because this was still Sookie Stackhouse, she arched a brow, smiling a little drunkenly up at him. "You'll enjoy it more." Before he could reply, perhaps to promise her otherwise, she shifted under him, a sexy grunt jerking from her mouth.

"You cheated."

Eric didn't blink. "So did you."

"Hardly cheatin' to use what genetics gave me," she protested cheerfully.

Sookie dragged her hands down her body, caressing her lush curves and presenting them to his searing gaze. He could take and claim and own and ravage this girl for days without pause until he knew every single inch of her body, and her elusive mind. It wasn't simply her body anymore or her baffling wit, but her mind too.

Eric was a greedy vampire. He wanted everything.

"But then I suppose," she continued, dropping sexy for fair, "You ain't used to bein' all playful with somebody?"

"Vampires do not play," Eric informed her.

Sookie blinked. "Well, _that_ sucks, though I guess it does explain Bill Compton's general . . . existence."

It was nothing compared to her usual witty quips, but something about her expression added charm to the remark, and his lips quirked. Sookie's face softened affectionately, and the change caught him off guard.

She stared up at him, nothing shy or coquettish in her, just simple fact and drunken truth. "Love that look on your face."

Her words felt like binds, a trap that tempted him to accept it and take a look at the truth before his eyes. He did not keep fangbangers or desire to violently avenge useful assets. Sookie was different, fascinating, but he did not feel deeply for any other not of his blood.

Eric was too pragmatic to entertain denial for long.

He wanted to keep her and avenge her and watch her fight fiercely for herself, to protect her if she was unable to handle a threat. He wanted to feel the werewolves' skin breaking under his hands, coating his hands with blood, bones crunching until nothing remained. It would be a suitable punishment.

Tomorrow night, he would escort Compton and his former nest to trial, and Sookie would be out of his reach. He had seen her fight sober, knocking down a werewolf and nearly driving back Long Shadow, but the idea filled him with an ugly red agitation. There was only one rational solution.

Eric straightened up slowly above her, lifting his wrist to his mouth.

"For the record," Sookie interjected. "I'm not one of those girls who find self-harm _sexy_."

Eric paused, faintly amused by her view of this. His gaze swept back down to her. "You find me sexy."

"An unfortunate side effect of having _eyes__." _Sookie wiggled under him briefly before slumping back down, arching her eyebrows sardonically. "So unless that joke was so bad you felt the need to kill yourself, what the hell?"

Eric realized she was sobering up. The dazed glow of her eyes had dimmed, returning her usual fire, and she was speaking more coherently, ignoring her compliment. Despite his amusement with her drunken self, he was pleased. She would be more open to reason.

"You need my blood," Eric stated, his voice slightly hoarse at the idea.

He felt her go still beneath him, but her expression had simply paused, waiting for more information before she reacted. "And why is that?" she said, further arching her eyebrows. "I'd rather leave the blood-sucking to you."

Dismissing his initial reaction to ask if she was offering, Eric remained serious. "I will be out of town after tomorrow night," he stated. "I will be unable to . . . "

"Watch me kick ass?" Sookie quirked her head to the side. "Or step in if shit gets real?"

"The guards I hired have proven to be repeatedly incapable of protecting you, even from a vampire such as Bill Compton," Eric said, a note of hard disdain bleeding into his voice. Which was why he was seconds away from murdering her previous guards and considering some hopefully less ineffective ones. "It seems likely you will require outside assistance. If you take my blood, I will be able to sense your fear."

"If you're far enough away that I can't call you, that won't do much," she said, but it was a token protest. "The other effects . . . "

"If you take only a small amount, you will simply feel more aware of your _existing_ sexual attraction to me," Eric told her, raising his eyebrow down at her. She made no move to deny the truth - so _open_ - or explain her knowledge.

Instead Sookie considered. She gazed up at him, a slight reluctance furrowing her brow, breathing deeply yet evenly as she weighed everything up. Eric watched her back silently, making no move to roll off of her, and felt an unexpected eagerness. He _wanted_ her to take his blood, to take him into her. It would be her first taste of vampire blood, and that would belong to him.

He watched Sookie shift, frown, and then her gaze sharpened with intensity. "Just a little," she said quietly, and triumph roared viciously through him. "Two or three drops from your thumb, okay?"

Without letting her reconsider, Eric lifted his thumb to his fang, and dragged it sharply across the tooth, feeling his callused skin parting with a minor jolt of pain. It was a small but deep cut. He moved it down, and he felt her abdominal muscles shifting as she sat up, grasping his wrist to pull him closer to her mouth - and then her lips sealed over the small wound.

Her mouth was hot and wet, tongue flicking out tentatively to lap up his blood, and Eric felt himself growling lowly at the sensation, mind darting to other things her mouth could do. He was harder than ever, straining against his jeans. His nerves sparked, a violent lust surging through every part of him, but his eyes were locked on her.

Her lips were parted around his thumb, sucking lightly, his blood dripping down on her tongue. Her eyes were closed, face set into a curious expression, not a sound escaping her, but he could smell her want, and he wanted too. He wanted to rip his thumb out of her mouth, to find out what she tasted like with his blood in her mouth, to kiss her hard enough that their blood mixed into a cocktail, to fuck her until she was entirely his in his bed.

And then Sookie swallowed.

Eric froze, save for the increasing growl rattling both of their bones like an earthquake.

Sookie exploded into his head, a bright flare of golden blazing fireworks, a reckless happiness, an ecstatic amusement, wild zest for life, and then a cold unrelenting darkness. It was hard and protective and violent, willing to do whatever without hesitation, almost simple-minded in that. She would kill and hurt and bleed others if needed be, and it was _beautiful._

An obsession burned wildly under his skin. He wanted to drown in her with all of her contradictions, to tear open his wrist and bleed more into her, have her bleed with him and lock her to him forever. He wanted to keep and devour and treasure and break. To stow her away as much as he wanted her to be seen, to burn so fucking brightly with him.

_Mine, _he thought with an almost rabid possessiveness. No one else could understand these parts of her like he did. No human could handle her darkness, no vampire would handle her light, and he would bury any who tried.

With a small gasp, Sookie wrenched his thumb from her mouth, and Eric jerked like he had been stabbed, a snarl leaving his mouth. The connection throbbed between them, leading from her to him, and he could still feel her, feel how aroused and overwhelmed and dizzy with drink she was, but he wanted it to be stronger. He wanted more of her. _Everything_.

"Eric."

Eric could feel the flow of her blood under her skin, pumping her exquisite blood through her veins, and if she had the slightest idea of what he planned for her, she wouldn't say his name like that - breathless and husky. It was a moment before his eyes focused on her.

Sookie was staring up at him, eyes darkened with lust but there was a clarity within them. His blood would heal her bruised knuckles, and she would sober faster.

The reminder of her drunken state washed over his mind like ice water, calming the fires brewing under his skin. Rationality returned. He had a question, and he had won the truth.

Only Eric felt a strange reluctance warring with the pressing need to spill the blood of her attacker. Right now, the idea was an abstract concept and despite his dislike of humans, he knew her reaction was likely to be unpleasant.

Eric finally moved, sitting beside her hips, long legs angled to stretch out beside her far shorter legs. "You must be tired," he observed, voice hard and uncaring.

Her smile widened into a grin. "Must I?" She sighed a little, closing her eyes. He felt a wave of weariness wash over her as if she had been holding it back by sheer force of will. She yawned, arching her spine upwards. Her tank top slipped over the muscular curve of her stomach, revealing a strip of tanned skin. "Well, okay, maybe I _must_."

Despite her words, Sookie made no move to stagger to her feet, continuing to sprawl beside him on the carpet. Her feet were several inches away from his glass coffee table, her unkempt blonde hair sprawled over the carpet, and he doubted she was truly aware of her surroundings.

Eric rose swiftly to his feet and said, in a tone that suggested impatience, "Stand up."

Sookie opened her eyes to glare at him. "No manners," she murmured ironically, rolling over to push herself up. Once her feet were under her, she staggered, bent at the waist, trying to regain her balance, laughing at herself.

She would never make the stairs like this.

Eric frowned. "Come."

"Play dead," Sookie told him.

His frown turned into a smirk. "I already am."

"That," she declared, moving closer, sparks in her eyes, "Is what makes it funny."

Pushing aside his feelings of amusement, Eric lowered himself to close the distance between their heights. "Allow me to carry you."

Despite the way it was phrased, it was clearly an order.

His tiny human's eyelids lowered, giving her an almost catlike air of amusement. "Since you asked so nicely," she said ironically. Reaching out, she placed her hands on his shoulders, pressed down and jumped up.

Eric felt her legs locking tightly around his waist, socked feet pressed into the small of his back, and his arms snapped around her, aiding her grip as he straightened up to his full height. Humor flared bright within Sookie, and he felt laughter travelling through her form in the tightening of her hips around him, the jerk of her body, and the exhales of hot air into the crook of his shoulder.

Deliberately turning his mind away from the touch, he began to walk. From the hallway through the kitchen to the top of the stairs, his tiny human was shaking softly with laughter. Eventually her amusement began to slowly die out, silent puffs of giggles giving away to slow weary breaths.

As he entered the doorway to his large bedroom, Sookie nuzzled the vulnerable skin on the back of his neck. Eric's stride faltered briefly as she wound her arms tighter around his shoulders, continuing to rub her cheek against his neck. Her cheek was soft and smooth and hot with pumping blood.

His instincts prickled uneasily at the touch, urging him to roughly throw her away, but an intense possessiveness and protectiveness unfurled through him, tightening his grip on the tiny woman in his grasp. He inhaled deeply, tasting their mingled scents in the air, so closely intertwined, and he wondered, half furiously, what the fuck she had done to him.

Carrying a human, taking a human to his home, indulging a human, _protecting_ a human. He _killed_ humans, fed and fucked then threw them away.

Eric moved swiftly across the room, putting her down on his king-sized bed, glad to be away from the dizzying haze of her scent. His growing anger took a hit when Sookie slumped back down on his bed, her tan contrasting nicely with the white silk sheets. His tiny human in his bed, golden hair a mess.

Eric lowered himself to the end of the bed. Ever the hunter, he watched as she curled up on her side, head bent to keep looking back at him.

"You owe me an answer," he stated, never allowing hesitance to color his tone.

Sookie gazed back at him. One simple quiet moment passed between them. She seemed almost grim, saddened, and Eric felt a crawl up his spine. He felt a vicious spike of desire for her sunny grin, but the desire warped quickly, heating up, hardening, with rage. Blackened ugly thoughts seethed violently through his mind, blood-soaked and enraged plans for the _filth_ to cause this.

"You haven't asked a question," Sookie said, a flat note to her voice.

Against his will, Eric felt his expression darkening, turning grave. His eyes averted from her, lowering to the pine floorboards but all he could see was her face as though it had been burned into his mind. "Tell me about the man who hurt you."

The low dark tone of his voice almost rendered the words compassionate but it was not nearly enough. With his insight into her emotions, he felt the quick brutal crash of realization slamming down on her with the force of an atomic bomb. She had been unprepared for his question, vulnerable and unsuspecting, and the impact was enormous.

He felt pain piercing her as she struggled for calm, sharp and deep, like the frantic stabs of a blade, of a messy overkill. In his mind eyes, he pictured wild sprays of hot gushing blood and chunks of flesh being torn off with every brief withdrawal of the knife.

It was like a flood of nerve damage, misfires and shock and pain and a cold nauseating horror. Breathless, gasping panic. Near hysteria edged with a reckless self-destructive insanity. The desire to crash and burn out so spectacularly that no one could ever forget.

Eric felt a vice tightening around his stomach, crushing it bloodily as he felt her wild frantic emotions. The skin on his back prickled relentlessly. He did not look at her, allowing her the illusion of privacy. Or perhaps he simply did not wish to see her expression.

(To see what shame and panic and pain looked like on her face.)

He heard her exhale slowly, and then for a moment, she stopped breathing. The silence gnawed at him as it had not since his impatient boyhood. Sookie let out a sudden cackle of laughter, a howl that bounced off the four walls of his bedroom, and filled his head, wedging into his skull like a railroad spike.

He felt the sheets shifting with her, and instinctively, his eyes darted to her, tracking the movements. Sookie was rolling to face her other side, curling around her stomach protectively. Half gasping and half-sobbing sounds of hard laughter wrenched out of her throat, muffled into his pillow case, and he felt an unexpected sweep of horror at the fragile sound.

There were no tears but the twisted imitation of her usual ecstatic bursts of laughter felt infinitely worse. It was a violation of her spirit. One of many, Eric suspected darkly.

This truth should have repelled him, that there was something wrecked and human under her amusing quips and raging fire. The sight of her pain should not invoke a mirror response in him. Perhaps it was his blood that caused this but with Sookie Stackhouse, he could not be certain of anything.

Except that he wanted the sound to stop, craved it more than many things, and he had no idea how to accomplish that goal. His touch would hardly be a comfort. The lack of knowledge made him feel helpless and utterly, painfully human.

Eric was silent, forced to watch as her body was wrecked with feigned amusement to disguise flinches. One last attempt at veiling her vulnerability from him.

And then silence fell. Her laughter disappeared as abruptly as it had come. Sookie was half-hidden from him, face buried in the pillow, laying on her side. Her hand was wrapped around her mouth, and her body moved with inhales and exhales. In his blood, he sensed her emotions, a thick film of numbness and under that only the reckless madness remained.

"You wanna know?" Her voice was strange, torn between a pained rasp and an unearthly calm, muffled by her own wrist. There was no vivacious light and blazing amusement, just a lifeless drawl. It reminded him of her numb shock while standing in her grandmother's blood.

It had bothered him to see her like that then, but it felt intolerable now, and Eric _almost_ went to dismiss the subject but he knew doing so would help nothing. He felt rage boiling through him, feral in its intensity, fangs pressing violently against his skin, desiring release. It was difficult to contain his temper, to keep it locked up for _just_ a little while longer, just one more hour.

Tracking was one of him many talents, and it had been a thousand years since he had felt this sickly hot murderous rage. There was no calm here, just a howling craving for agony and revenge.

"I want to know," Eric stated, forcing the rage out of his voice. She could mistake it otherwise.

Sookie was still for a moment. Her breaths were even, and he sensed the darkness growing within her, cracks of it breaking through the calm. Slowly she rolled over to face him. Her eyes were blackened with a wrath, and he felt part of himself purr in delight at what he saw there.

A darkness not unlike his own, finally a glimpse of inhumanity in his girl beyond her outstanding capability for survival. Maybe his blood was bringing it out of her, simply subduing her humanity in favor of this wonderful rage, or perhaps this was simply Sookie without inhibitions.

"Well," Sookie said lowly, that bitter fury spawning beautifully in her eyes. As lovely as her light, as mad as her smile. "Why the hell not?"


End file.
